


Memento Mori

by OneAgentofChaos (BeringsBulldog)



Series: Ars Moriendi [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Warehouse 13
Genre: Darla and Spike have minor roles but are important!, Fushion, Giles is the Watcher because he is awesome, Helena and Angel are total bros, Helena is a Vampire with a Soul, Multi, Myka is the Slayer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeringsBulldog/pseuds/OneAgentofChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The choices one makes in life always have consequences. If you are the Slayer and a Vampire with a Soul, these choices are a matter of life, death, and never ending guilt. But sometimes you find someone who understands this better than anyone else, and knows you better than you know yourself. And that makes all the difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue 1899

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter will be first person, present tense of one POV. For instance, this chapter is Helena in first person, present tense. Next chapter, will be from Myka's POV in first person, present tense. I wound up doing it like this because it made things more intensely personal for Myka and Helena. The writing style is freeform. I rely more on dialogue and action. The description of the surroundings is rather limited but when I give it, the description can be connected to different themes the story encompasses: the use of time, the symbols of death, the choices made and the consequences, immortality, mortality, etc. But sometimes, descriptions of general places and things are just necessary for the story. Hope all of this is not too confusing.

“I DON'T CARE!" Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!"

-JK Rowling 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix'

Prologue 1899

"HG! Helena! Wake up!"

I feel something being removed from my head, and open my eyes to see my best friend, with the bright light from the gas lamps surrounding his body, giving the appearance of a halo. 

My eyes squint at the bright light. "Woolly, stop it." I bat his hands away in aggravation. "I do not want your help, nor need it." 

I fall out of the long chair and collapse onto the floor, desolate.

It was getting harder and harder to witness my daughter's death each time. I built my time machine only with one thought in mind: going back in time to rescue my daughter, to prevent her murder.

I also bore the weight of another death. I had to make a choice; try to rescue my daughter or help the young maid Mary, who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had been out shopping and ran right into the thieves upon her return to the house. 

I witnessed one of the men grab her and seen her struggle, but I knew time was running out to save my Christina. 

So every time I went back, I make the choice to rescue my daughter. 

And the terrible part is, I would make the same choice over and over again.

Because I am selfish. 

Each time I went back in time, I never even tried to save her instead of my daughter. 

Mary was a sweet innocent girl who never really stood a chance.

\---

I am a genius, you see.

Some may say this is nothing more than my ego talking.

I admit to being egotistical at times, but I categorically assert my advanced intellect for good reason. 

Who created a time machine, a rocket to fly to the moon, a powerful vest to go faster than the human eye, and a gun not used for violence but for the ability to transport one into the sky? 

Certainly not my brother Charles, whom the world assumes is the real HG Wells. All Charles contributes is the mustache. 

These are all of my achievements, and the world will never know.

How I labored through many nights and hours, obsessively going over formula after formula. Finding the right parts, building my time machine so there would be no error. Surely there was a way to go beyond 22 hours and 19 minutes. 

In the process, I alienated Charles, and my friends. William Wolcott, dear Woolly, was the only one to stick by me. I often wondered why he did; I treated him so badly. 

There was a part of me who felt shame, remorse for doing so, but there was a larger part that just didn't care.

\---

"Helena," Woolly speaks in a soft, soothing tone, and I allow him to pull me into his warm, comforting body. 

It was the first time since Christina's death I felt actual physical comfort from someone. I refused any semblance of physical comfort from Charles. 

I know if I allow myself to be comforted, the tears, the sorrow would become overwhelming. I need the anger. It provides focus. I can channel all of my energy into bringing Christina back.

Pressing against him feels good, safe. It is Woolly, after all. The man who is my dearest friend and brother, just not in blood. Woolly knows more about me than Charles. We shared secrets as children, knew each other's temperament. Sometimes, I wished I felt more for him. I'd known for a long time he had feelings for me. He would make a good husband, I know; just not for me.

My hands grip Woolly and his hold becomes stronger. I shake, and the tears turn into sobs. 

I have no idea how long this unpardonable loss of control lasts. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours. I begin to feel fatigued, resenting my body's betrayal.

Woolly's voice brings me aware again. "There, there, Helena. I'm here. Just let it all out."

I vigorously shake my head, mumbling, "No, no, no, no..." I shove him away, and angrily wipe at my tears.

"Helena..." Woolly tries. He sounds tired. 

"No, Woolly. I can fix it, I know it. The formula must have been off. Something must have been off..."

I stand, and stare at my machine. It is magnificent. This is the fourth generation. With each successive trip, significant modifications have been made. This one had been used twice with only minor tweaks. Truth be told, no matter how many calculations I tried, this model was the best I could do.

I stumble to my workbench, and study my schematics and most recent calculations. 

"Helena!" Woolly cries. "You are exhausted! You need to rest." 

"If I adjust this variable here, this could be what I need," I mumble, scribbling my new calculations on the edge of my blueprints.

Woolly grabs my arm, but I roughly shake him off. "Helena! Are you listening to yourself? You say this same thing after every trip!" 

I continue to ignore him, murmuring, "More time. I just need more time. If I could reach a full 23 hours, maybe then..."

"It's time to let her go, Helena...to let them both go."

I round on him, furious. "As long as there remains a chance, any chance at all, I will try. And I will find a way, you can rest assured of that!" I snarl, then turn around to face my blueprints once more. "If you can't accept that, Woolly, you know where the door is," I add, coldly.

"You cannot continue to bear the weight of responsibility for each death. Some things happen, Helena, that we cannot change." He pauses, and then his voice becomes tender, "I don't want to leave you, Helena." Woolly sighs, and continues, "I just...can't you at least take a rest? You have been at this nonstop, hardly sleeping. I cannot even get you to sleep."

I rub my bloodshot eyes. "No matter. I am perfectly fine."

"No, you are not!" he shouts. "Fine. You want to continue, fine, but not before you take a rest. And I am not taking 'I am a Wells, and do not require eating or sleeping.' for an excuse!"

At any other time I would have laughed at his ridiculous impersonation of me. 

"We both know you cannot go on this way. You know yourself that your mind will work better upon receiving the proper care it and your body needs," he pleads.

I grip the edge of my work table and grit my teeth. I hate to acknowledge his wisdom in the matter. I straighten, and turn around. "Alright. I will eat something."

His face grows animated. "We can go upstairs and have Cook make you something-"

"No," I cut him off. "I will go out." I brush past him. "The fresh air will be invigorating. My head will clear, and I will be able to resume." 

I climb the stairs of my workroom to the foyer, retrieve my favorite black waistcoat, and walk out into a classic London fog obscuring the late afternoon sun. 

\---

My boots click against the cobblestone sidewalks, and I am vaguely aware of the hansom cabs and the clip clop of the horses. 

My mind is on my calculations and my schematics to the exclusion of all else, which is why I feel a jolt of surprise upon stumbling into a woman. Her package tumbles and the contents spill upon the sidewalk.

"Oh, I do apologize. My mind is on other matters." I scoop up contents that indicate gifts for a child: a teddy bear, a doll, and a...book.

"Who is this for?" I ask softly, tracing the title.

"Well...my daughter actually." She sounds slightly defensive, causing my head to shoot up. "She has become quite enamored with HG Wells since reading 'The Time Machine', and begged me for 'War of the Worlds'."

I knew 'The Time Machine' was popular, but besides adults, it was more common to hear boys enjoying it as well. The fact a young girl asked for it, and the mother encouraged it, overwhelms me with so many emotions: sadness, jealousy, anger, and joy.

I have practiced over the years in masking certain aspects of my life. There were a select few besides Woolly who know I am the one behind Charles's books. Every time I hear praise, it produces a wide variety of emotions. Initially it cuts me, following with pride at my accomplishments, and ending in bitter disappointment. As a woman I can never reveal who I really am to the world, as it would never be accepted.

And I think of my little Christina. How much I would have encouraged her to read all matters of books, explore the world, play games, build a treehouse, inventing and building with me, eventually going to university, and pursuing a career despite the world we live in; a world in which only boys had the right to these things. 

And now that will never be. 

"It's a wonderful gift. I...knew another young girl who loved books as well, and she was the most wonderful child..." I clear my throat, hoping she hasn't heard the emotion spilling into the words.

I hand the book back to the woman, who looks at me strangely. After a moment, her face clears in understanding.

"My daughter is a gift everyday," She pauses, and then stares at me with sympathy in her eyes. "I am sure the young girl you speak of knew how much you loved her." She takes my hand, squeezes it, and smiles softly.

My emotions threaten to spill over again; this is another mother, of course she would know.

I nod my head stiffly. "Thank you. I hope your daughter enjoys the book."

I hurriedly walk away without preamble, but stop walking after a block or two. I breathe deeply and briefly shut my eyes, seeking some sort of equilibrium after this unwanted encounter.

Consciously bringing my calculations for the time machine to the forefront of my mind, I block my emotions, but in this process I only become unconscious instead.

\---

"Bloody hell! You look like shite, Johnny!" 

"Aw, shut your trap, Danny. Ready to go or not?"

"Keep your knickers on! I'm comin'!" 

The loud, male voices, one obviously slurry from the effects of alcohol, startle me.

I stop, and shake my head to clear it. The men are now disappearing in the distance. To the right a few doors down is a pub, which they obviously just vacated.

I have no idea where I am or even what time it is. Evening has already turned into night. 

I check my pocket watch, a gift from Woolly who declared that if I was going to dress in men's clothes, I needed a proper watch. It's 5:30. 

The inscription inside the cover catches my eye: "To thine own self be true".

Woolly gave me the pocket watch on my first birthday after Christina's birth. The quote is a popular one of Shakespeare's, which I always thought was a bit trite.

I asked him the meaning behind the sentiment. He only grinned, and told me to figure out the meaning on my own. And then he grew serious, saying no matter the circumstance, that for him, his truth lies always with me.

As I closed the clasp, my arm is shoved hard enough to jerk the watch from my hands. I look down to see it lying broken at my feet.

"Oi! I'm terribly sorry, missus!" I look up to see a newsboy, his arms full of papers. He squats, his papers now snug in his left arm, and retrieves the broken pocket watch.

He stands, placing the broken watch gently into my hands, his face full of contrition. "I really am sorry, Missus," he says distraught. "I...I don't have the money to fix it, but I'm a good worker. I can work to pay it off...." His free hand nervously picks at his clothes. 

The boy is no more than nine or ten, his youthful face at once so earnest and so frightened. Christina was only five when she died, but I can remember seeing the same expression on her face once when she broke a lamp. 

That alone pains me, and I halt his protests. "It's alright. Go on now." I give him a small smile.

His face clears, and I know he is relieved. The boy turns, and begins to run. Only after a few steps, he suddenly stops and turns around. The boy tips his hat, and shyly says, "Night, misses," before taking off once more.

I examine the watch, and it is most likely reparable, though now permanently stuck at 5:30 until it is fixed, and I decide to head into the pub. 

\---

The pub is called 'Nevermore'.

I step inside, and close the door behind me. The light is dim, but the bar is lit well enough. There are a decent amount of patrons at the bar stools, but the tables are all empty. 

I take a seat in a booth in the back, and suddenly my fatigue and hunger are catching up to me. Fortunately, the bar maid is swiftly here, and I order a pint and some fish and chips. 

While I await my order, I have the urge to stick my hand in the candle flame just to see how badly it will burn.

The shadows from the candles remind of some sort of Danse Macabre. They all seem to turn into hideous death masks and dancing skeletons, mocking me for my attempts at trying to foil death's plans. 

'Oh, for heaven's sakes, Helena.' I internally berate myself at my ridiculous morbid interpretation of nothing more than flickering candlelight.

"Here you are, luv." The barmaid hands me my pint of ale and my fish and chips. 

"Thanks you," I murmur. She looks at me strangely, and seems about to comment when I hear the bartender call out, yelling to return to the bar.

"If you need anything else, let me know," she says.

"I'm sure I shall be fine." 

The bar maid hesitates, then gives me a small smile. "Whatever is troubling you, time has no meaning here."

I nod, and am thankful when she leaves.

The meal is delicious, which I don't know whether to attribute to my hunger or the cook. I eat faster than what would be appropriate for a lady, but I could care less.

My plate clean, I push it aside and lay back against the back of the booth, feeling somewhat more human. I leisurely drink my pint, and my eyes droop. Woolly was right; I'm exhausted, and I am starting to feel it. I try to think about how I went wrong in my calculations for the time machine, but with each sip, I become more and more sluggish. 

My eyes open when I feel someone slide next to me. It's a beautiful blonde, her perfume rather strong. 

She says nothing but her eyes trail with hunger over my body. I know it's supposed to be seductive, but I can't help feeling like a meal she is waiting to devour.

I have employed a more subdued version of similar flirtations with a number of men myself. However, as a member of society, my methods held more finesse and subtlety. 

Quirking an eyebrow, I give her an amused smile. "Is there something I can help you with?" I know she is a prostitute and wonder if a good shag will help me or not.

Instead of answering, she says, "The barmaid was right you know, time really has no meaning here. This is a good place to escape your troubles."

"And how do you know what troubles I have? How do you know I have troubles at all?" I query.

"Everything about you says so. The cut of your clothes." She fingers my coat and my scarf and then caresses my trousers, stopping just shy of my crotch. "They are tailored, and made of expensive fabric." She threads her hand through my hair. "Your hair is clean, and soft to the touch. The way you carry yourself. You carry yourself as someone who has been raised in society." She takes my hands. Hers feel quite cool, and I absently wonder how chilly the weather has become. "Your hands have the manicure of a lady.

"However, it is interesting, how your hands speak of things more than perhaps of reading an occasional book, delicately playing the piano, waiting for a servant to see to her every need, and demurely waits for the right man to come along, kiss her hands, and marry her. Your hands show a certain roughness one would attribute to some sort of physical labor.

"It is also unusual for a woman to dress as you are, and to come into this pub. Nevertheless, you are a lady of society. You are not a whore. You are only here to escape something that is troubling you, a place in which time has no meaning."

She stops, and looks at me expectantly. This woman is quite perceptive, her accent too cultured for this area of London, and I'm quite sure she is used to servicing the upper class.

It is unusual for her to be in this pub as well. However, I have a suspicion she followed me, knowing because of my stature, she could demand a higher price and I would pay it.

For a moment I toy with my pint glass, and watch the ale swirl around inside. 

"Scholars of science, mathematics, religion, and philosophy have long studied the meaning of time, its very existence. Each discipline has deciphered its meaning according to their expertise. 

"The metaphysics never interested me. I am only concerned with mastering time mathematically and scientifically for my own ends."

Now I shift my body to face her, and state, "You see, I am not interested in sharing my findings with humanity. Humanity is unworthy, and will only use my findings for cruelty. This world is barbaric enough, especially for children. 

"I am not noble, you see. I would do anything to save the one I love, and yet here I am, wanting to forget time even exists."

I turn back around and down the remains of my ale, and return the pint glass onto the tabletop.

She rises, and offers her hand. "Come with me, and fall into the abyss where time has no meaning or existence."

And I do.

\----

The barmaid was right.

Time has no meaning here.

There is no past and no future.

There is only now.

My world has shrunk down to this room and this bed, and I have truly fallen into the abyss this woman described.

She is kind and caring, and the sexual release she provides is incredible. 

Even though she is a prostitute, I am fleetingly sad this is nothing more than a job to her. I wonder if she is simply an actress performing a play, or if she really cares about my well-being at all.

Her name is Darla. We never discussed payment. She simply took me to a room upstairs, and undressed me. 

I wanted to forget. At least for a little while, and Darla made it very easy.

As I near my second orgasm, I am dimly aware of pain, which pushs me over the edge and prolonged the intense pleasure. It becomes too much, but the bite continues.

"Stop!" I cry. I try to shove her away, but I feel weak. With the exhaustion of trying to stop Christina's murder, the ale, food, and sex, I'm becoming as weak as a kitten. 

Darla finally rolls away, and I'm not amused, no matter what kind of rush the bite provided. I rise from the bed, feeling a little woozy when I stand, and begin to gather my clothes. I feel the urgency of time returning. I should be at home, working on new calculations for the time machine.

It is past time to leave my escape from reality. 

Darla tries to cajole me back to bed. "Oh, come on, Helena. Didn't it feel good? I could tell how hard you came when I bit you. Tell me you didn't like that."

I finish buttoning my shirt and my trousers. Raising my hand to my neck, I can tell by the feel of it that the bite was sharp, sliced, and not the clumsy biting of human teeth. 

Darla rises in the nude and walks over to stand in front of me, just short of invading my personal space. Her cool hand caresses my face, and I'm reminded of the coldness of her first touch.

"What would you say if I told you I can take your pain away. Permanently."

I say nothing, but the vanity mirror confirms my suspicions. I can only see myself; exhausted in mind, body, and spirit. I wonder what it would feel like to no longer see myself at all. 

"You are a vampire, are you not,” I say, stating more than questioning.

There had always been rumors here and there. The gothic novels of the time period; things like seances, and a general fascination with spirits and the afterlife, I had always seen as poppycock as there was no scientific basis. Rather I saw books like Dracula as an allegory. An allegory for sexuality. The seances I viewed as chicanery.

"And what if I was? Would you have slept with me if I told you?" She smiles coyly, and continues, "We are both deceivers, Helena. Do what we must do in order to survive in this world, a civilization made by, and only for, men. We wear masks to hide our true identity. Our true face is something we can never show whether we wish to or not."

I frown. "What does that mean?"

Darla removes her hand from my face and instead of answering the question says, "I know who you really are."

Narrowing my eyes in suspicion, I ask, "What are you talking about?"

"I know you are the real HG Wells."

"You are wrong," I retort. "My brother Charles is HG Wells. I am merely his sister."

"Oh yes, I know. You are the sister who as any woman, is treated as a second class citizen or in my case, the filth on the street. You are not merely his sister. I know how smart you are, and about things you have created."

I roughly grab her. "How do you know this? No one knows this."

Darla laughs, claiming, "I have my sources."

I shake her. "Tell me!"

"Your friend William is quite talkative when shall we say...properly motivated," she replies coyly.

I push her away, angry at her and angry at Woolly. I begin to curse him for his loose tongue.

"He let a few things slip...well, more than a few. Enough for me to know who you were at any rate."

Mimicking Woolly's voice, Darla says, "I know a woman, who is brilliant and beautiful. Definitely more brilliant than me...HG...I mean uh Helena!..she is more brilliant than any man. She has invented so many wonderful things and doesn't get the credit she deserves. It makes me so angry!" 

I have to admit, she does a good impersonation of him.

She smiles, and says, "I would say he has quite the little crush on you."

"I am aware of his feelings," I state, closing my eyes in shame and mumble, "God knows he can do better than me." 

I open my eyes, and question, "Why me? There are plenty of humans you can prey upon."

"Oh, I know. And have done so many times, but I'm not looking for a meal. I am looking for someone worthy of being my companion."

"And what makes you think I would consider you as worthy of my eternal companionship?"

Instead of a direct response, Darla returns, "How much would you give to take away the pain? Hunt down the men who murdered your daughter, and make them suffer for it? To give into your desires to torture and kill these men?

"I am the only one who can give you what you need and desire." She offers her hand. "Come, my love. After your revenge, we can travel the world together, and we can celebrate your brilliance. There will no longer be pain or doubt or guilt or failure."

I am so tired. So very, very tired. I have tried so many different times, so many different ways to bring Christina back. My resolve to try to do so again is dwindling. 

My hand subconsciously seeks out my necklace, and I fiddle with the locket. While I don't want to give up, Darla presents a tempting offer. Perhaps making these men suffer and die for murdering my baby girl, will bring at least a small amount of satisfaction.

I make my decision, and glance in the mirror, knowing this is the last time I will be able to do so.

My hand reaches out to hers in silent acceptance, and Darla smiles as she walks me over to the bed.

We lie down, and she caresses my face. Darla's face morphs into the guise of a demon. I feel as though this should scare me, perhaps to the point of refuting my earlier acceptance, but all I feel is calm and at peace.

"Now just relax, and let Darla make it all better." 

I close my eyes, grimacing when her teeth sink into my neck. But the deeper she goes, the pain changes into a sense of euphoria and arousal. 

I'm fading fast, dying in the hope of becoming alive again. The last thing I'm aware of before I fall into oblivion is Darla stroking my face, bringing her slit wrist to my mouth to suck her blood.

And Helena Wells ceases to exist.


	2. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Myka's POV, and is all about reflections (hence title) of her life as a Slayer, the choices she has had to make, the guilt and shame she feels, feeling lost and confused. How does she view herself, others, etc. It's very much a parallel to the Prologue.
> 
> The first part occurs right after Myka was Called to be a Slayer in 1996. The second half of the chapter is Myka, a freshman at UC Sunnydale in 1999. It is the same date (Oct. 22nd) as the first half. Unless there is a flashback, the rest of the story takes place in 1999.
> 
> The first half takes place the night of The Harvest. I took a few liberties with it so there is a few differences than The Harvest in BtVS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you read this, remember Myka is the Slayer. She has to go out night after night to kill demons with human faces, and make life and death decisions. She has friends, but ultimately it is up to her to save the world. Try being given this responsibilty at the age of fifteen, and know you will die within the next few years doing it. Aka Myka is not a drama queen. She has good reason to feel this way.
> 
> As I said in the Prologue, each chapter is from one person's POV and the next chapter may be a different character's POV. From this point forward, I won't tell you at the beginning of each chapter whose POV I am using. I figure you guys are smart enough without me telling you. 
> 
> I'm having a struggle dealing with the notes part, so I deleted what I had for the end notes. I want to somehow make a different page to explain the Canon for this universe. I'm having a lot of trouble with the formatting for this site. Hopefully those unfamiliar with BtVS will figure things out okay.
> 
> A Watcher is assigned to every Slayer by the Watcher's Council. Rupert Giles is Myka's. He trains her and prepares her. Everybody calls him by his last name.
> 
> ~~~~~ means memory flashback ~~~~

"You do care," said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”  
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

 

Sunnydale, California October 22nd, 1996

 

Myka Bering does not fail. 

No ifs, ands, or buts.

And Myka Bering is responsible. 

Therefore, as Myka Bering, I do not fail at anything because I am responsible.

I'm told I am brave and strong, and carry the weight of the world.

You see, I am a Vampire Slayer. The Chosen One. The one girl in all the world, chosen to fight the forces of darkness...blah, blah, blah. 

My main job? Kill the vampires. 

But you know what?

Vampires never, ever leave.

It's like the 'Circle of Life'...well, actually I guess it's like 'Circle of the Undead'. 

There is no Simba destroying Scar in the end to become the Lion King, with a wonderful, happy Disney ending. My life is so far from Disney, Walt wouldn't know how to handle it. After all, there is no happy ending for me.

You see, every time I stake a vampire, their Childe take their place. 

What's a 'Childe', you may ask? 

Each time a human is turned into a vampire, the newly turned vampire is called a Childe. The other vampire is the 'Sire' of this Childe. It's the undead version of becoming a parent. It's a whole big sucky thing. They suck you, you suck them, fluids are exchanged...okay, that was going inappropriate visual places, but I think you get the picture.

So, usually I have to stake at least one Childe, sometimes multiple Childer. Then the Childe sires their own Childe... At any rate, the cycle goes on and on and on...

Like I said, a vampire 'Circle of Life'.

And of course you can't forget the vampires have to actually eat. To them, people are nothing more than happy meals on legs...sucking them dry until the person is a bloodless corpse. 

This is why I can never let one vampire exist.

Oh, and there is one more thing: I live on the Hellmouth. 

Or "the mouth of hell"? Get it? 

Demons galore love it here, and a majority of them have one goal in mind: open this mouth of hell so they can frolic and play while destroying the world and humanity. Vampires may be demons but they are actually a walk in the park compared to facing hell gods.

Yeah, that's right, what do I do for fun? I avert an apocalypse!

This is why if I quit, a person will die. People will die. The world will die.

Therefore, Myka Bering is not allowed to stop.

And it will never ever stop for me until the day I die.

\---

Giles knows.

He was callous at first, or at least, it seemed that way. "One girl in all the world, chosen to fight the demons," he spouts.

But behind that stuffy British Watcher demeanor, I could see him begin to care. He looks at me with sadness in his eyes, and tries to be my stalwart standing fast, but he knows I'll be lucky to live long enough to graduate high school. 

And I know it too. 

He trains me. I become excellent with a sword, can handle a staff with ease, shoot vampires at fifty paces through the heart with my crossbow, and my fighting skills are so good, I know professional martial artists would struggle against me. 

I learn Sumerian, and Giles is incredibly impressed by my knowledge, my eidetic memory, and how fast I learn. 

He will offer me bits of wisdom, and while the words are meant to comfort and help me rationalize, they will fall flat. 

In reality, Giles has become more of a father to me than my own father ever was. He spends time with me, he is my mentor, encourages me, and even cares about me in his own British awkward stuffiness.

I don't tell Giles though. He would get all flustered, protesting he is only fulfilling his duty as my Watcher, but we both know anyways this is a lie, and that's good enough for me.

This is why I don't tell him about the first time I had to make a choice; a choice between who lived and who died. Giles would make platitudes, and although I'd see his Watcher mask on, I'd see the struggle of the caring 'surrogate father' in his eyes. 

And to be quite frank, I want neither. I just want to be left alone. Maybe I'm a masochist or something, but I refuse to talk about it with anyone. I think in my mind, I shouldn't be let off the hook for this. In some twisted way, I feel the pain of it reminds me of the consequences and makes me work harder to save everyone.

Regardless, making this choice happens again and again in the course of my life as a Slayer. I know realistically I'm only one person. After all, I can't be everywhere at once. Still I torture myself every time I make this decision, replaying it over and over in my mind, a dozen different scenarios in which the sacrificed person(s) lived.

This first time I made the choice of who lives and who dies, I'm still new to this Slayer gig. I'm just a fresh faced gangly nerdy fifteen year old. I still have random spurts of cuddle time with Mr. Bear, lament because my latest crush pays no attention to me, babble when nervous and shy, and wear a Scooby Doo wristwatch.

I'm not ready for the consequences. I am confident, bordering on arrogant because I feel smart and strong. I don't care about Giles's words of caution, I can handle anything. 

I believe I can save everyone. This isn't the case, and one of hardest lessons I've ever learned. 

After it's over, I try to rationalize. It was for the greater good, I tell myself. I had no other option, I tell myself.

When I fall asleep, these excuses fall away and I see them for the lies they really are.

I see those frightened eyes again, begging me to help, and I always do the same thing: I turn away to save the world, condemning the young girl to death.

Then I wake up, willing myself not to cry.

\---

This first time I had to choose was the night of The Harvest.

The Harvest ritual can only be attempted once in a century; on October 22nd, and done right here in Sunnydale.

And I happen to be the lucky Slayer who has to deal with it.

The Master, a 1000 year old powerful vampire, wanted to break out of the magical barrier holding him; his biggest aim to bring about hell on earth.

The Master chose Luke, his favored, strongest vampire as his vessel, and every drop of blood Luke drank made the Master more powerful. The Bronze nightclub on the outskirts of Sunnydale, full of teenagers with the fresh red blood of youth coursing through their veins, provided the perfect location and the perfect main course.

And I am running late for the party.

\---

The dust of the vampire I slay swirls around, invading my senses, choking me.

I hate that part. 

I step back, waving my arm, trying to not inhale anymore, and stop my coughing fit. I stuff my stake back into my jacket pocket and check my watch. 

Why I do this, I don't know. Habit maybe? The damn battery died earlier this evening. It's still stuck on 5:30 pm.

Giles found out Luke and his vampire lackeys were showing up by 8:30. This is an important ritual, and it was for the Master, so I knew better than to chance being late. Unfortunately, circumstances (or should I say my mother) made getting here any earlier difficult. Tonight, I had to go through my bedroom window. I have the feeling I will be grounded for life if she finds out. 

Being a Slayer and a teenager are really not compatible.

As I race to the Bronze, I can't shake the urgency, and I almost crash into the front door of the Bronze I'm running so fast. I'm about to rush in, when I hear a cry for help. 

I whip my head around to see a vampire, in full game face, holding a young girl. For a brief second, I see the pleading and fear in her eyes before she is dragged into an alley. Just as I set to go after her, I hear cries and screams inside the Bronze.

The Harvest has started.

I don't have time to save the girl, and save the world from the Master.

I have to choose.

And I choose the world.

And I will never forgive myself for it.

\---

It doesn't really take long to stop Luke and his lackeys. But the fact he had already drained one person and was ready for another, feels like just one more thing to add to my rack of guilt. 

Giles with my best friends Pete and Claudia finally show up to give an extra assist. I don't know what held them up, but that's a question for another time. I stop the ritual, kill Luke, and his lackeys are either dusted or escape, running away with their tails between their legs. People seem mainly disoriented as we watch them get their bearings, and Giles assures me they will forget this tomorrow. The human mind has a way of compartmentalizing things. Tomorrow, instead of bloodthirsty vampires it will become gangs on PCP. 

Ignorance is bliss, I guess. I can't decide how that makes me feel. Worried they won't be cautious enough? Happy they can delude themselves this horrid reality we live in is a safer fantasy? Or maybe envious, as I'll never be that innocent again, condemned to live in the stuff of nightmares. 

I feel the danger has passed, and tell everyone it would be safest to go home, and fortunately they capitulate. One boy in particular concerns me. Well, shakes me really. He lost a lot of blood, and I just made it in time to stop Luke from fully draining him. Giles, Pete, and Claudia take the boy out the back entrance to where Giles had parked his car, deciding to take him to Sunnydale General Hospital.

I'm still full of energy and figure I can burn it off on the way home. I head out the front entrance of The Bronze, feeling pretty positive overall. Hey, we just saved the world!

The Bronze doors close behind me, and that's when I see a figure emerge from the shadows. It's the girl I had to sacrifice to save this unforgiving world.

Except she is no longer a girl. 

She's a vampire.

As the demon began to mock me for my choice, I remember a lecture from Giles right after I was Chosen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There will be times where you will have to make a choice as to who you are going to save. I know it's hard, but that's just the way it is. You will get into positions where you must make the decision-"

"Of who lives and who dies?!" I interrupt, practically screaming at Giles, who is placidly leaning against the library table. "I get it. Yeah. I play God! I get to decide if my neighbor Mrs. Connor down the street will die or Joey from my science class. Well, let's see. Mrs. Connor yelled at me yesterday for accidentally crushing her flowers, and Joey loaned me a book, so guess what? Joey gets to live!" My arms are crossed, brow furrowed, sarcasm lacing each word.

Giles' glasses come off and he withdraws a handkerchief from his pocket. He indulges in what I later learn is his habit of cleaning his glasses when something (or someone) is being particularly difficult to deal with.

After a moment, Giles puts his glass back on and says softly, "It's part of being the Slayer, Myka. And there will come a time, when you must decide if the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many. And as your Watcher, Myka, I'm here to tell you, they do not."

"And what would Rupert Giles tell me?" I ask pointedly. 

He gives a small, sad smile. "Rupert Giles would like to tell you there are times when the needs of the one can outweigh the needs of the many.

"But you see, Rupert Giles is not in charge of a Slayer who must battle hell itself, save the world, and yes, must decide who lives and who dies."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The memory is over and the vampire has moved closer, still taunting my decision and reminding me of my foolish arrogance. 

"She was so frightened, this girl in this body. Soooo scared. And where were you, Slayer? You saw her. I know you did, as she was dragged behind the alley. But no, you chose to forget this frightened girl and now you don't even care."

I hear enough. I take the stake from my jacket, and stoically do my duty.

I dust the demon with the dead, innocent girl's face, and I hate myself for it.

\---

UC Sunnydale Sunnydale, California October 22nd, 1999 

 

"Myka! Hey, Mykes!"

The male voice serves as a jolt, and I'm thrown back into real time.

It's all so vivid still, and so painful. Unfortunately, I know why my mind begins to replay that same memory.

Tonight is the three year anniversary I first chose the world and sacrificed an innocent. 

I remove my sunglasses and wipe my eyes, annoyed at the tear stained sleeve, proof I lost control of my emotions. I curse myself for the lack of stoicism a Slayer must maintain in order to fulfill her duties. The damn sunglasses have the audacity of being tear stained as well. Using my other sleeve trying to clean the sunglasses, I'm hoping my long, curly mane will cover my face which I'm sure still shows signs of tears.

I know the male voice belongs to Pete Lattimer. I don't want to talk to him about it, even if he is my best friend. 

We've been through so much together. Pete was there when I was Called, witnessing a mere human girl who in a matter of seconds (with a rush so powerful I'll never forget), become the one girl chosen to fight the evil in this world. 

My other best friend Claudia Donovan, techie extraordinaire, was there too, but Pete is my rock. When things become overwhelming, I go to Pete. As juvenile as he can be at times, he has a heart of gold. He listens, gives me a big Pete hug, and then declares it's time to make his special Pete pancakes. The amount of sugar is outrageous, but I happily eat the pancakes even if it's two o'clock in the afternoon or eleven o'clock at night. My world rights again, all because of his goofy grin and kindness and chocolate chip pancakes.

But today, the lure of a Pete hug and Pete pancakes doesn't seem appealing. If I'm honest with myself, I realize they haven't seemed appealing since the summer. 

I just began my freshman year at UC Sunnydale, and should exalt at the world of academia. It's everything I always wanted; studying and learning are valued. People voluntarily came here for these things, unlike high school where it was mandatory whether you wanted it or not, and there were many who did not. 

At college you are entering adulthood, leaving the trials and tribulations of adolescence behind. For me, someone who prized academia, you would expect joy. For someone who felt awkward and socially inept as a teenager, you would expect happiness at people not really caring if you wore weird clothes or feeling like the biggest nerd on the planet if you could quote Shakespeare, had read every single book there ever was, and knew four different languages.

However, I still couldn't reveal that part of me that eclipsed everything else: The Slayer. It's so ironic that everything here that should bring me joy, only brings sadness because I know I will never live long enough to even graduate. 

Pete graduated high school with me, but he still lives in his mother's basement and didn't come to college, choosing instead to find a job to help his mother with the bills. I know he wants to go to college, and so does his mother (she is an elementary school teacher, for god's sakes), but Pete wants to wait a year. The Lattimers have always struggled. Pete's father died when he was ten, and his mother has struggled ever since with paying off the mortgage and raising both Pete and his sister Jeannie. She also became a guardian of Claudia who lost her parents in a car crash over a year ago, and it will be another year until Claudia graduates from high school. 

But he is Pete, and he is more loyal than anyone I know. He would never leave his family to struggle when he had the power to help right now, even if he had to sacrifice his dreams to do so.

Unfortunately, we grew apart. Pete, Claudia, and I were so tight in high school. Pete and I became busy with different things, and I felt he couldn't relate to being in college. There were times I would try to discuss things with him, but his answers, his solutions were framed within the context of high school. 

We still hung out periodically. He would help with research or help patrol. Even after nearly three years, I've never stopped worrying about choosing between Pete and saving the world. I worry he will get hurt or die just because he's trying to help me. It's my job. I'm the Slayer, and I worry he'll die in my place. 

"Mykes, I wanted to see if you wanted..." Pete trails off. "What's up? Everything ok?"

Through my curls, I see him standing there, just inside the table umbrella, his concerned, caring face and body blocking out the harsh glare of the sun.

I slide my sunglasses back on my face, and hope he doesn't notice me stuff a flyer into my jacket pocket. A college student is missing, and I have a pretty good idea where he is.

"I'm fine." I say, smiling too wide to be believable. "I'm just...you know...uh..." I taper off, panic creeping in. 

Oh great. I can't think of an excuse. Pete knows me almost better than anyone, and I'm fairly certain he can see through the lie. 

Pete raises an eyebrow. "Come on, Myka. I know you, and hanging around the patio...daydreaming...isn't you. I don't even see any books out!" He pointedly says, "In fact, I don't see your book bag either. You aren't even at the library, and I know your class ended at-" Pete checks his stupid X men watch. "Wolverine here says it's 3:56. Your last class ended at three!" He pauses, and softly asks, "Myka, what's going on?"

I stand and hiss, "I know what time it is." I hold out my wristwatch for him to see, and tap at the watch face. 

"Myka, your watch doesn't even work, remember?" Pete rolls his eyes. " I don't even know why you continue to wear that thing. It was time to get a new battery three years ago."

I ignore his criticism, not wanting to delve once again into my fixation about wearing a watch that doesn't work. "There is nothing wrong with me, Pete." I grab my drink, shaking the ice cubes around. "I was just trying to finish my Coke, alright?"

"Okay, if I didn't think there was something wrong, I do now," he says. "You are having sugar, Myka. SUGAR! You only have anything with sugar if you're upset about something. I am vibing like crazy here." Pete grasps my shoulders, it's rather brave I absently acknowledge since I could hurt him twenty different ways for this. 

I roll my eyes. "I don't care what your stupid 'vibes' tell you, I am FINE." 

I suck in a breath, hoping to get myself under control. I am actually close to a breakdown. 

"Look, I got a lot on my mind. College is much more rigorous than high school, you know," I try to deflect. "Besides, Sam is kinda bugging me right now, okay?"

There. That answer sounds better. Maybe he'll leave me alone now.

Pete knows my relationship with Sam isn't exactly made in heaven, and in some ways more of a distraction than anything else. Or maybe substitute is a better word? For someone who isn't there, someone who didn't have the nerve to say goodbye.

Pete's face softens, and he says, "Myka..." Pete takes a deep breath, removes his hands from my shoulders and steps back. I can tell he's going to tell me something I really don't want to hear. 

"I know you miss her, but using Sam to avoid thinking about Helena is not the right way to deal with this."

Oh, man, now he has pissed me off. 

I don't need to be reminded, and I don't need or want his advice. I hate it even more because deep down, I know he's right and I don't want to admit it.

"You know what, Pete, you can just fuck off. I can't believe a guy who is dating a ditzy 1000 year old vengeance demon who is so obsessed with money and capitalism, she has to count the till at the Magic Box six times when she closes, and tries to charge people for just looking in the store, has the gall to give me relationship advice!"

I shove past him, knowing I didn't curb my Slayer strength, so he will most likely have a good bruise. There is a part of me disgusted with my behavior, but there is another part grateful because Pete brought out anger targeting Sam, which is much better than dealing with my sorrow and pain.

"That's a ditzy 1000 year old EX-demon, Myka! Get it right! And for your information, she only counts the till four times!" he shouts at me as I walk away.

I mutter "Whatever", and jam my fists into my jacket pocket.

The flyer is no longer there. 

\---

I feel agitated and really wish it was dark so I could go out and pummel some evil creature. 

It may sound rather sadistic, but a good beating or killing a vampire is the best medicine there is when I get wound up like this. I figure what better way to release my pent up anger than keeping the world safe. Right? 

But in the back of my mind, I can't let go of the fact these were once living breathing people.

Dammit.

My feet carry me to my dorm Stevenson Hall, despite it not being my particular destination when I left Pete back there. I cringe with guilt as I realize how I treated him. 

Entering through the hall door, I pass a group of kids I know are Seniors, excitedly talking about the internships they have lined up. I stop and stare at them, thinking and wishing I could change places with them. 

One of those girls can be the Slayer, who sacrifices everything for a world who doesn't even know she exists. A girl who will never live long enough to get an internship, graduate, and become a doctor, lawyer, professor, or anything else, marry, have children, and live to old age, having lived a full satisfied life. 

Great.

Now I feel even worse.

\---

I unlock my door, grateful Leena isn't around. 

Leena is great. She's an awesome roommate, friend, and on her way to becoming a badass witch, but she also can read auras, which I so don't need right now.

I flop down on my bed, and hear my stomach growl. I sure as hell don't want to go to the school cafeteria, so I get up, and check our fridge.

Leftover pizza.

My favorite kind.

Yeah!

I stick the pizza in the microwave, and having the slice is actually helping my state of mind. It's not quite as good as Pete's special pancakes, but it does the job well enough.

Finishing up, I know it won't be long before I need to patrol, but I decide what I most need is a good book. 

I glance at the alarm clock: 5:30.

Just a good novel for an hour. To be in another world.

I go to my bookshelf and my eyes stray towards The Time Machine. 

'Don't.' I think to myself. 'Just don't go there.'

I nearly give in to the urge, but I grab Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban instead, wishing I could ride the Hogwarts Express with Harry.

\---

I practically jump out of my skin when I hear the phone ring. 

I was having a great dream, soaring through the air on a hippogriff, my arms spread wide, with a large grin plastered on my face.

The phone rings loud again. Damn, we need to turn that ringer down. It's dark and I wonder how long I've slept. I fumble around, and turn on the lamp next to my bed.

Picking up the phone, I grumble, "What?" 

"Myka? Is that you?" 

I have the urge to roll my eyes. We've been dating for two months. You would think he knew my voice by now.

"Yes, Sam, it's me," I droll.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly. "I was just calling to see if you wanted to meet up so we can do a sweep together."

I check the alarm clock next to the phone, and see 6:43. 

"No, no, I just fell asleep reading that's all." Pausing, I bite my lip. I really don't want him to join me, especially because my relationship with him is among the many things bothering me. I just want to beat the crap out of some demons, and clear my head. Instead, I inwardly sigh and give in. 

"Sure," I say. "Um, meet outside my dorm in about fifteen?"

"Or, I can come to your room and pick you up." He returns in a bit of a suggestive tone, and I know what's on his mind.

"Or, we can meet outside my dorm in fifteen minutes," I say pointedly. 

I hear the sigh, but he acquiesces. "I'll see you outside in fifteen then."

"Ok. Goodbye, Sam." 

"Bye, Myka." 

Hanging up, I'm resigned to the fact I have to deal with not only him tagging along, but trying to get me into bed when we are through with patrol. 

I snag Mr. Pointy (my favorite stake) and my leather jacket. I slip out the door into our hallway, teeming with students full of life.

I walk past them, full of death. 

\---

"I got this, Myka!"

Sam throws himself between me and the vampire in some misguided attempt at either his perception of chivalry or his continual competition with me. 

"Knock yourself out, Sam," I reply with a roll of my eyes, and put Mr. Pointy back in my leather jacket.

Sam must have taken my meaning literally as he slips on the wet grass and falls down with a thud. I do hear feeble groaning so at least he's conscious.

"Hey, Slayer! Was that, like, your boyfriend?" The vampire laughs as he stares down at Sam. Raising his head, the vampire taunts, "If he is, you should think about getting yourself a real man. Cuz this guy? In a fight? He totally sucks." 

This vampire must be stupid, but minions generally are. I've been doing this whole Slayer gig for nearly three years. At this point, taunts either roll off my back, or piss me off. Either way, he is dust. Unfortunately for him, with my previous mood I'm pissed so he is getting a beating before he returns to hell.

Faster than he can blink, I run over and my fists fly. His attempt to defend himself is pathetic, and I can feel a red haze take hold. I feel primal, and in the back of my mind, I know I should stop and just stake him. Seizing his shirt, I slam him against a tree. Taking Mr. Pointy from my pocket, I go to stake him.

"Wait! Wait! I got information," he pleads. I really destroyed his face, and he slurs so much I can hardly understand him.

"What kind of information?" I growl, the need to kill strong. I want the release, the satisfaction. I've been this primal only a few times, but subconsciously I feel a sense of alarm. I feel out of control. Once I totally give into the primal Slayer, I'm worried I'll blindly hurt or kill anything I feel is a threat, including a human being. 

"Look, if I tell you this, you'll let me go, right?" He has the gall to bargain. 

I've learned over the years not to entirely discount some offer like this. The urge for self preservation is as strong with them as it is with human beings, so the information may simply be a ruse.

Fortunately for him, I'm able to temper the Slayer, and the haze begins to clear. I release my hold on his shirt, withdrawing the stake which is millimeters from his chest, and take a small step back.

Nodding, I say, "Continue." 

"I heard Spike's in town and he's looking for some kind of gem."

"And? That's all you got for me?" I scoff, annoyed.

"No...uh...there's more!" I know he sees my fingers start to fiddle with the stake. My hand starts to twitch. The urge to kill him is returning.

He swallows and says, "If you have the gem, you can go out in the daylight! And you can't die. No one, not even a Slayer, can hurt you."

This actually could be useful, if it's true. Giles will know, and I realize I'd better contact him tonight about it.

I see his relief, thinking that information was enough. "Can I go now?" He says hopefully. 

I allow my primal side to come out a bit and grin maliciously. I lean in, my stake raised.

"Hey! You said I could go if I gave you information!" He protests.

"I lied," I say and stake him through the heart.

"Myka?" I hear Sam and turn. A few yards away I see him rubbing his head, trying to get up. My haze dissipates and I walk over to help him up.

He takes my offered hand, but instantly recoils upon standing. Not looking at me, he mumbles, "Thanks."

I knew Sam's pride was hurt, but why does he insist on doing this kind of thing? 

"Are you okay?" I ask. "Maybe we should head back to campus."

Sam doesn't say anything and just starts walking. Well, more like attempting to walk. He's limping, and I can see his anger surfacing at being injured. He grunts and I can tell he's trying not to show his pain. Sam feels embarrassed because he slipped, and I know he heard the vampire's taunt, questioning his masculinity. He is already insecure around me enough as it is.

To be fair, Sam is a nice guy. He can be old school: bringing flowers, offering his arm, pulling out a chair, or holding a door open. It was nice to feel pampered, I had to admit. Being a Slayer comes with so much responsibility, having to be strong enough physically, mentally, and emotionally, and it felt really good to be appreciated.

But there were times his compulsion at being my white knight in shining armor was just too much. I don't need to be protected, or need to be rescued. I don't need to be treated like a delicate flower and condescended to.

I discussed being the Slayer with him, but there were things I purposely left out, especially my past relationships. He tried to get me to open up, but just because he knew about the creatures of the night, doesn't mean he could deal with my past.

How do I explain what it feels like to meet a new Slayer who was Called because I died, even if it was less than a minute?

How do I explain what it feels like to actually die?

How do I explain losing my virginity to that new Slayer, who eventually tried to kill me and my little sister?

How do I explain offering my Slayer blood to a poisoned vampire with a soul in order to heal? A vampire I began to have feelings for. 

How do I explain how the act turned me on so much I reached orgasm? 

How can I say this experience was more intimate than any sort of intimate experience I ever had with him, or admit I would do it again with this vampire in an instant?

And how can I explain my feelings for this vampire still exist, and those feelings can be easily described as love?

Sam represented my chance at normalcy: he was human. One hundred percent all human. No supernatural extras. It's part of what attracted me, now I hate myself for realizing his normality is beginning to repulse me. 

Sam is still sulky and silent as we emerge from the sprawling campus grounds to the main campus. He starts to take the route towards my dorm instead of heading the other way to his frat house. 

This aggravates me. I don't know why he automatically assumes he'll spend the night in my dorm room, and I'll take care of him to boot. Yeah, I'm sorry he's injured, but I want him to go back to his own room and deal with his injury himself. He's a big boy. He doesn't need me to fuss over him. 

"Sam, let's head back to Lowell instead. I think you would feel better in your own bed."

He stops walking. "I suppose," Sam grumbles. He winces in pain, and my annoyance fades somewhat. While I still don't want to play nurse maid, I begin to feel a bit guilty. Am I being a bad girlfriend?

My mind and emotions are so messed up today. I don't even know what I feel for him anymore. I take a deep breath and say, "You know, the grass was real slippery tonight. It rained earlier...anybody could have tripped." Sam scowls at me, so I try again to help him feel better (or possibly make me feel less guilt). Unfortunately, I go into babble mode and the wrong things come out of my mouth. 

"Hey! Even I almost tripped! I mean, sometimes you know my innate clumsiness is still around...just because I have enhanced strength and speed doesn't always translate into complete agility-"

Reminding him of my abilities as a Slayer doesn't help matters either.

"Myka!" Sam interjects. "Just..." He blows out a breath, and says more calmly, "It's fine." He gives a strained smile. "I may not have Slayer strength, but I can bench press 170. I'm also a pretty quick healer."

"Okay." I give a hesitate smile, and rub the back of my neck. 

"Look, I think I just need to put some ice on it. Like I said, I'm a quick healer."

"Sure!" I cringe a bit at my too enthusiastic response, and go to kiss his cheek. At the last moment, Sam switches his head to kiss me on the lips, the action taking me by surprise. I kiss back but the image of Sam in my mind changes into Helena. 

I break off, feeling disoriented.

"Myka?" Sam questions, and I can tell he can't make sense of my reaction. 

Pulling myself together, I reply, "Yeah, I'm fine."

I can see confusion is turning into suspicion, and I wonder what's going through his head. I feel like I'm hitting all of his insecurities tonight. 

And on top of that, I feel like I'm cheating by visualizing Helena as I'm kissing him. 

"I'm fine, Sam," I reiterate and step back. "I need to finish this sweep. I'll come by tomorrow, and check up on you." 

"Why don't you just come over tonight? Ice can only help a guy so much. Sometimes his girlfriend is the best medicine," he says, suggestively. 

"Sam, I REALLY need to finish patrol, and then I'm going back to my room. I'm tired," I say, trying to keep my annoyance in check. "I always do full sweeps. You should know that by now. If I miss one vampire, people die. People die because of me, and I'm not willing to take that chance." 

"I don't understand why you don't ask for help patrolling," Sam argues. "You've got friends who are more than capable of handling a few vampires-"

"More than capable?!" I scoff. "You're kidding right? Pete still has trouble using a crossbow, and sometimes he trips over his own feet when he uses a stake. Claudia is a techno nerd who can barely stake. Steve can stake, but struggles against vampiric strength, and almost always needs an extra hand. Leena's magicks only work about half of the time. Giles is surprisingly good for a Watcher, but up against more than one vamp, then forget it!" My voice is rising, which is bad unless I want the whole school to know I'm the Slayer. 

I am so pissed right now. Just because I won't drop everything to take care of him, which apparently seems to include sexual needs, he decides to guilt me and question my worth as a Slayer. 

"Who does that leave, Sam?" I continue, and feel my face getting hot from anger. "Huh? Who is strong enough, who can dust a vampire so fast it doesn't know what hit it, who can take on five vampires at a time, or kill a demon with a sword?" I huff. "That would be the Slayer." I point to myself. "That would be me." 

Sam glares at me. "You are full of shit, Myka. Pete is strong and was on the wrestling team in high school, Claudia has invented gadgets to kill vamps, Steve is dependable, and Leena's powers get better everyday. Your ego is too big to admit other people can do your job."

My inner Slayer wants to deck him for making those remarks. 

"You mean like you did, or should I say, DIDN'T DO tonight?" I say scathingly. He starts to respond, but I cut him off. "I think it's time to say goodnight, Sam, before I do or say something I regret." I begin to walk away but stop. Without turning around, I add, "You will never understand what it means to be the Slayer. It doesn't matter how many people help. I have been Chosen. In the end, there is only me. No one else."

Without waiting for a response, I take off.

\---

I am only a block from Giles' house when I literally run into the missing boy on the flyer.

I finished the sweep of the grounds. I only run into one vamp to take my anger on, feeling vindicated for my reasons to finish patrolling rather than cutting the sweep short. I'm too wound up, deciding I don't want to go back to my dorm room just yet. Instead, I head over to Giles', wanting to get his opinion on Spike searching for this gem. If the information is credible, it really worries me. How can I kill Spike with this gem if he's impervious to sunlight, and immortal? He can go out and have a spree of violence and murder, and no one (including yours truly) will be able to stop him.

I'm so distracted rounding a corner, I knock the boy onto his back on the sidewalk. I'm pretty sure he was on the receiving end of a bit of Slayer strength.

"Hey, I'm so sorry about that!" I apologize profusely. "Are you okay? Do you need any help?" He grimaces, and I offer my hand to help him up.

Then I recognize him as the missing boy on the flyer, and the moment his cold hand takes my warm one, I know my worst fears have come true. 

Standing before me is a demon in the missing boy's body, and my heart sinks.

I lost another.

He nods. "I'm fine." 

The instant he sees me, I can see the surprising realization of whom I am. "You're the Slayer, aren't you," he states more than asks, taking a moment to appraise me. "I heard about you. You have quite the impressive kill ratio. In fact, your resume as a Slayer is nearly impeccable, am I right? Killing the Master, stopping a couple of apocalypses, stopping an Ascension, and that's just for starters." 

Before I answer, he adds, "But I've heard something else too. You go out night after night, exhausting yourself trying to kill us. You spend hours out here looking for vampires, and we are still here because we both know you can't kill all of us, no matter hard you try. But you try soooo hard because you care. You care so goddamn much it destroys you inside, and at night you see the faces of every vampire, the faces of the people you couldn't save."

I hate him for being right. I'm so tired of it all, I can't deny it. I also know he's trying to get a rise out of me. Instead, my anger from the night has disappeared, and now I feel nothing. Everything drops away and I become stoic, knowing what must be done.

His face morphs into his game face. He comes at me, but my roundhouse kick slams him into a fence. I grab my stake from my jacket pocket, walking towards him. I fist his shirt, holding him there dazed and prone and helpless. 

"I guess I'll see your face in my sleep too," I whisper.

With one hard thrust, my stake slides through his heart. 

As I step back and watch his dusty remains fall to the ground, I see a piece of mirror glass. I pick it up, and the reflection I see is distorted by the jagged cuts.

That's alright. I don't want to see myself anyways.

I toss the broken glass, and hear it shatter in the distance.


	3. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka continues to struggle with the past and present. Luckily, her Watcher (aka surrogate father) is there to offer the support and guidance she needs.

......

"It is not the end of the physical body that should worry us. Rather, our concern must be to live while we're alive-to release our inner selves from the spiritual death that comes with living behind a facade designed to conform to external definitions of who and what we are."-Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

....

 

Giles's house shines like a warm, welcoming beacon. 

I feel better already as I approach. Well, less sullen anyways.

I take a moment to collect myself, and then knock on the door. It's a running joke that Giles never locks it. He complains about any of us simply waltzing in unannounced. I can't bring myself to. I value my privacy, so shouldn't we value Giles' too?

I hear "Come in, Myka."

Jeez, am I this predictable he recognizes my knock? What if I was a vamp for God's sakes?

I swing the door open, mindful of Slayer strength, only to see him writing at his desk, and wonder who on earth he could be writing a letter to. 

Does Giles have friends? Okay, that was stupid, I berate myself. Of course he has friends or relatives or...someone...and it hits me how little I know of his life. It's so easy to think it all revolves around me. 

Giles finally looks up when he hears the door close. He clears up his desk, and my eyes stray towards the Orb of Thesulah on his desk he uses as a paperweight. The Orb is used to return a vampire's soul to their body, but the soul comes with consequences. We found that out when Steve's sister was Turned. I don't know where Steve found it, but suddenly he showed up with it, and I caught him and Claudia mid-ritual. In the end, it didn't work; neither one had the magic skills or talent to return the soul to her body, and I had to stake her. It was the only time I've seen Steve unhinged; he ran wild through Sunnydale in his wolf form, causing tons of damage in his grief. Luckily, we were able to stop him by using a tranquilizer gun. I was afraid I would have to kill him. 

When Giles first started using the Orb as a paperweight of all things, I demanded to know why he would do such a thing, especially as Steve would see it every time he came to Giles's house. Giles informed me Steve himself asked him to, as a reminder that there are things you cannot, or should, change, especially when it comes to mortality. It was after his sister's death that he began to explore Buddhism, and using meditation to help control his wolf. 

"How did you know it was me? Am I that predictable?" I ask, slightly perturbed.

Giles smiles as he rises and grabs his cup, probably to get more tea. "Yes, you are." 

"You should talk," I scoff. "You and your Earl Grey tea. Do you ever drink anything else?"

He fills a kettle with water, and places it on the stove. "It's chamomile. Earl Grey has too much caffeine at this time of night."

I roll my eyes. "It's still tea."

"What do you need?" Giles comes out of the kitchen, and leans against the back of his sofa, looking expectantly at me. It almost feels like the scrutiny of a parent, mixed with the curiosity and concern of a Watcher. 

You would think given my innate stubbornness and the disdain for anyone offering their help and advice would raise my hackles, most especially with the night and day I've had. Instead, I find it soothing and a relief. 

I've grown to greatly respect Giles, and find a sense of comfort from my 'surrogate father'. Even being around my mom who knows I'm the Slayer, does not provide this level of comfort. She's often away on business, and her reaction to being the Slayer hasn't always been the best. She alternates between worry, irritation, and lack of understanding of what it means to have a Slayer as your daughter. 

"Spike's back in town. He's searching for some gem that will make him impervious to the sunlight and immortal."

"Really?" Giles pushes off the couch, and I could see his interest is piqued. The kettle whistles, and I follow him to the small kitchen. I sit on a stool at the breakfast bar, watching as he prepares his tea.

"Yeah. I ran into a vamp tonight who told me." Giles raises an eyebrow, and I can tell he is skeptical. "I know," I concede, "The information could be bogus. He was trying to bargain for his life after all." Then I quickly add, "But I staked him!"

Giles smiles, and returns his tea bags to the cupboard. "I had no doubt."

I feel ridiculous for acknowledging the need for his approval, and the comfort at hearing it, but I can't seem to help myself. I suppose if I psychoanalyzed myself, I would say it stems back to my own father's frequent disapproval of me. 

"So what do you think, Giles? I mean do you think it's credible info?"

"It's very possible." He frowns slightly, but I can tell his mind is in high gear. I swivel on the stool to follow his path from the kitchen to the living room. He is so distracted it's a wonder he doesn't spill tea everywhere when he sets his cup down on his desk.

"A gem, you say?" Giles asks, and he begins to scan his bulging bookshelf, ranging from heavy bound books full of everything from detailed information on every demon imaginable to a tome chronicling prophecies written entirely in Latin or Sumerian.

"Yes," I affirm, watching him pull out several books, placing the stack on his desk. Opening one, Giles mumbles under his breath as he flips pages.

I watch in silence for a moment, and then grab one of the books on top to research. The action catches his attention, which surprises me, and he favors me with a side glance. When Giles sinks into research mode, the world generally ceases to exist.

"What else is going on with you?" 

"What do you mean?" I am defensive.

"I mean, you are not here just to tell me about Spike. You could have called just as easily," he pointedly states.

Damn. I should have guessed he knew something was up. There is a part of me though that wonders if he is right.

"Look, I just..I needed to get away from campus for awhile so I figured I would just come by with the information."

Giles stares at me for a moment over the top of his glasses, and I have the feeling he can see through the lie. Finally he says, "Tonight is the anniversary of the Harvest."

I am startled by his non sequitur, but quickly recover and shrug, like I don't care. 

"So what?" I reply, and set the book down, trying for nonchalance even though I know he won't buy it.

"We've never truly discussed the events of that night, and I never knew how much it affected you until later. At first, I thought it might have to do with the ritual itself. Dealing with something on that scale, basically averting an apocalypse as we all know would have occurred if Luke had been successful, is a very daunting thing for such a young Slayer."

I don't respond, and he continues, "But later, I realized it wasn't just that. Every year around this time you became melancholy, and incredibly irritable if talked to. You would forbid anyone to come on patrols with you. The only time you really talked about anything was your vigilance in coming to me, asking about prophecies or anything else. You would gradually become more like your regular self as it got closer to Halloween."

I bite my lip and rub the back of my neck, wondering if I should actually talk to him about it. Giles is still my Watcher in my mind; always would be despite the Council firing him last January.

"Something else happened, didn't it? After we parted that night." Giles peers at me, and I feel my eyes starting to tear up, because he is so close to the truth. 

I turn my back, not wanting him to see my weakness. 

"Myka," he says softly, "I hope you know that I am your friend as well as your former Watcher. I'm not here to chide you. I am concerned. I wish I had done something earlier but I didn't connect the dots until after last year."

I wrap my arms tightly around myself, feeling the need to protect myself against the onslaught of emotion. "Yes," I say, not knowing exactly what I'm saying yes to. Knowing he is a friend? Knowing he is concerned? Knowing he won't chide me? Or acknowledging he is right about all of it. 

It's silent, and I know Giles is waiting for me to say something else. When I don't, I hear him head back into the kitchen. 

"Do you remember two years ago, when I dealt with the consequences of my irresponsibility as a youth and people died? Three of my friends died because of my idiocy."

I relax somewhat, and walk over to sit at the breakfast bar. I watch Giles fill up the kettle and set it on the stovetop while he talks. I have the feeling I will be drinking chamomile tea shortly.

"Because we were young and arrogant, we thought we could handle a demon of that magnitude. Instead, three of my good friends suffered horrible deaths."

"I remember," I say, and I do. Giles was angry at himself, and snapped at me when I offered to help. We were all shocked at how wild Giles sounded like in his youth. As ridiculous as it may sound, our teenage selves were shocked he was a youth, period. When you are that age, you have a tendency to view adults with blinders on; they were never born, and never young. They simply always existed from the dawn of time in their adult forms.

"Last year, when it was the anniversary, it was all I thought about. So much guilt and carelessness."

The kettle whistles, and I silently watch him make my tea. As Giles leaves the kitchen, he brings my cup, but instead of handing it off, he walks past me into the living room.

Giles sets it onto his coffee table, sinks into his arm chair and looks at me expectantly. "Your tea won't remain hot forever, you know."

I take the hint and sit across from him, picking up the tea to sip: chamomile. Despite my earlier teasing on his predilection for tea, chamomile is a favorite of mine before bed. Not that I'd ever tell Giles that though.

"I couldn't even stand to be around here. I took a few days to collect myself, and used the excuse of seeing an old friend in San Francisco."

"I remember that too," I feel bad for not connecting the dots, but I was busy swooning over Helena.

"I had felt with Helena here, you would have the extra help you needed. I told Helena a brief synopsis of what had happened because I wanted to make sure you were cared for. It probably sounds ridiculous. You had just turned 18, had become strong, and I was proud of how far you had come as a Slayer." He smiles. "And how much you were maturing as a person, despite your obvious infatuation for Helena." 

My face flushes. I knew Pete figured it out, but I was around him every day. He is my best friend. God, it must have been obvious to everyone.

"I know what you are thinking, Myka. I don't think many people caught on to it." Giles takes off his glasses, and withdraws a handkerchief from his pocket, rubbing the lenses. "There were lapses in your concentration while training if Helena was around, and you had a tendency to blush and become tongue tied when talking with her. But since you only saw her when something was connected with slayer business, the urgency of catching MacPherson, Claudia busy drooling over Todd (I could have done without seeing some of their repeated displays of affection, I might add), Todd learning magick, Steve focusing on gaining control of his wolf, and Pete's constant obsession with food, comic books, and chasing any girl who came along, I think you flew under the radar, as it were."

Wow. We never gave Giles enough credit; he wasn't as clueless as we thought. Well, with me at any rate. Claudia, Todd, and Steve were very involved in what was happening in their own lives, and Pete...well, let's just say Pete's obsessions tend to never stray from the status quo. And normal slaying duties, as well as stopping MacPherson and an apocalypse preoccupied any free time left.

"Did Helena know?" I ask, scared of the answer. While things happened with us later on, I cringe a bit thinking she must have thought I was some ridiculous adolescent with a crush on her. 

Giles places his handkerchief back in his pocket, and puts his glasses back on. "Yes, she was aware."

Oh, God. Now I am feeling mortified, and that was bringing me back around to my other problems involving my feelings for her, along with my confusion and irritation with Sam. 

"I can also tell what you are thinking now. She was not repulsed, or thought you were silly for acting this way. Helena is a vampire close to a hundred years old, she has more experience, and knew of its importance to you. She never said anything, but I saw something in her eyes and her actions showing her feelings were...well let's just say, I believe this was the point when she developed feelings for you as well.”

I wasn't sure how to take that. While I felt a sense of relief knowing she didn't see me as an idiot, I wonder if she ever truly saw me as an adult, or just as a kid with a crush she was simply indulging. With a sinking feeling, I wonder if this may be why she left without saying goodbye.

Giles clears his throat. I think he realizes how far he strayed into my personal life, and the "surrogate father" mode that neither of us ever acknowledged to each other.

"Well, be that as it may, I digress."

"Um, yeah," I reply, fairly certain I still resemble a red tomato. 

"What I am simply trying to say is while you may believe you have something under control, and believe you are prepared for the consequences, life isn't always like that, and the choices we make can sometimes not go as expected. Unfortunately for you and I who deal with supernatural elements, it may be a matter of life and death."

I look down at my hands, which are busy picking invisible lint on my jeans. 

"You have never been irresponsible, Myka, despite what you may think. When I first met you after you were Called, I saw how serious you were. You were an attentive student, soaking up everything you could. Like a sponge. I still worried because I knew there were things you hadn't faced, and what would happen if something on a large scale occurred. Not just because you still had a ways to go on your training, either. I wanted to prepare you mentally and emotionally for what could happen."

"I know. I thought I knew, Giles. I felt strong and smart, and at that point, I felt like I could handle anything. And something happened, that I wasn't prepared for..." I gulp, trying to reign in my emotions.

Giles says nothing, seemingly waiting for me to continue.

I suck in a breath. "There was a girl. When I came out...of the Bronze...after everything, she...she was...I saw her before I went in. And you guys weren't there yet...I didn't know what to do." I look at Giles pleadingly, wondering if he could make sense of my ramble, and wanting him to understand and not judge me.

I see understanding cross his face. Giles truly knew, but I wasn't sure I was ready to completely talk about it yet. 

"A boy was missing from campus. I saw the flyer today....I was on my way here and I ran into him." I look up to see Giles patiently waiting for me to finish. "I didn't get to him in time, Giles. It was too late." I choke. "I had to dust him. I had to." Tears start to fall and I wipe my face.

Giles leans towards me and speaks in earnest. "Myka, you are strong, so strong, but you must remember you are still only one person. No matter how hard you try, you cannot stop every vampire."

I swallow, nodding.

"No matter what I say, how much I tried to prepare you, no one ever, not even a slayer, is capable emotionally for dealing with this. Being a Slayer does not mean your humanity has left. You may feel light years removed from people because of what you have to deal with, but you were Called as a young teenager. You have carried the weight of the world on your shoulders for three years. And you are a caring person, Myka. I'm glad you have your friends. No Slayer has ever had what you have. I believe that is part of what has kept you alive for so long. You are one of the longest living Slayers, you know."

I don't know what to say to this. Suddenly, it starts to feel like too much and I jump up. "Um, thanks for the tea, Giles, but I need to go study." I start to move towards the door. He doesn't say anything, although he can tell it's simply an excuse to leave. 

I stop at the door and my tone becomes all business. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, and you can tell me what you find out."

"Yes, of course," Giles replies softly as he sinks back into his arm chair.

I rush out the door, and run home, my thoughts and emotions still a jumble. But there is a small part of me that feels a sense of relief. 

I no longer carry the burden alone.


	4. Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete and Myka have a heart to heart, and Myka learns about life and love through the wisdom of Pete-logic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Buffy the Vampire Slayer actually has its own lingo called "Buffyspeak". I'll use it from time to time because this is the universe they are in. It's part of what makes Buffy endearing, I think.
> 
> The main characters of BtVS call themselves "the Scoobies". If you've watched the tv show "Scooby Doo", you'll get the parallel: meddling kids find the bad guys, pretending to be something supernatural like a ghost or a monster. The irony is that while they call themselves the Scoobies, the monsters are real. 
> 
> Pete is probably the only person Myka feels safe enough to let her guard down. Giles to an extent, but just like in Warehouse 13, Myka's not good at showing her feelings, especially if she thinks it makes her look weak.
> 
> This chapter has three flashbacks. Here are just a few basics you need to know:
> 
> 1) Faith is Myka's Angel. Myka still died for less than a minute like Buffy did at the end of her sophomore year fighting the Master. Faith shows up (as a new Slayer is Called when a Slayer dies, which Myka technically did, even if it was just less than a minute). Faith is even more fucked up from her past than the Faith on BtVS, but I won't go into specifics right now. As Faith is Myka's Angel, the arc is extremely similar. Eventually, she decides to voluntarily become a vampire, and Myka is forced to stake her. Again, I don't want to go into my full canon for Faith, so just take it as is. The dialogue in that flashback is an abbreviated version of what Angelus said to Buffy in the BtVS season two episode "Innocence".  
> 2) Helena came in Myka's Senior Year (Season three BtVS). As the story progresses, you will learn more about her background, and just for now know Helena was sent by the PtB to help gather a large number of artifacts missing from the Warehouse in trying to stop James Macpherson from ascending to a major demon and then creating hell on earth.  
> 3) Sam is Myka's Riley, in case you haven't figured that out by now. Sam and Myka's relationship has similarities to Buffy's and Riley's. The flashback of Myka with Sam is very much taken from a scene in a Buffy episode. Unfortunately, I can't find out which one but I think it's in season 5. The scene was such a great metaphor for one of the many problems of Buffy's and Riley's relationship, I had to use it. 
> 
> Myka's flashback with Faith was hard because I kept getting teary and upset while writing it. I had to make our sweet Myka suffer. Things will get better for her later though through the help of Giles and her best bud Pete. 
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~indicate flashback
> 
> *****indicates scene separation 
> 
> \------indicates separation of flashbacks since there are three in succession

"Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we can live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead." -Angelus Season 2, episode 17 BtVS

~~~~~~~~~~

It's the cold that wakes me.

At first, I do my best to snuggle under the thin sheet, not really aware of where I am. After ten minutes of a struggle, I give in and sit up, searching for a blanket. It is only then I realize I'm in Faith's motel room and I blush.

I look around and see the empty place next to mine in the bed. The cold leaves my body, replaced with the warmth of first love.

I trace her pillow, wondering where she is.

"Faith?" I call. I debate about getting up, realizing I'm naked underneath the sheet. Despite the fact I just lost my virginity to Faith, I still feel shy enough as I rise to wrap the sheet around me.

"Faith?" I try again, and just as I step towards the bathroom the door opens, bringing with it a cold draft. I wrap the sheet around me tighter on instinct to ward off the chill.

Faith has a strange look on her face. I walk over and tentatively raise a hand to stroke her face, which she ducks. Faith steps over to the room dresser, deposits her wallet and keys, pointedly ignoring me.

I gulp, wondering what's going on. Where is the loving, caring girl from last night?

"Is-Is something wrong?"

She shrugs off her jacket, throws it on the chair and turns to me. "I went out. What's the big?"

"But you didn't say anything. You just left," I say in a small voice.

"Yeah. Like I really wanted to stick around after that." My confusion must show on my face, so Faith elaborates. "You got a lot to learn about sex, M," She laughs. "Although I guess you proved that last night."

"What are you saying?" My grip tightens on the sheet wrapped around my body. Despite it covering my nude form, I feel naked and exposed.

"Let's not make an issue out of it, okay?" Faith rolls her eyes. "In fact, let's not talk about it at all. It happened."

"I...I don't understand. Was it m-me? Was I not good?" I feel sick and humiliated.

"You were great. Really. I thought you were a pro," she mocks. "Look, I gotta take a shower. You need to clear out by the time I'm through." She walks past me and heads into the bathroom, knocking my shoulder along the way.

Hot tears blur my vision and drip down my face as I struggle to gather my clothes and dress as fast as I can.

The moment I open the door lightening flashes across the sky followed by the boom of thunder. I stumble out feeling the pain inside like a kick to the gut, and then slowly sliding down the door I close behind me.

The rain pounds the earth so hard, my sobs go unheard.

~~~~~~~~~~

\-----

~~~~~~~~~~~

"On three!" I call.

Helena smirks at me, with a sparkle in her eye. "In tribus, dilectus."

I roll my eyes in amusement. "Fine. We'll do it in Latin."

Helena morphs into game face, even her demon is beautiful. She winks at me, and I grin at her like the lovesick fool I am.

"Unum..." I count, "Duo..." I turn my attention to the idiotic vamps in front of us who foolishly think they stand a chance.  
"Tribus!" I yell.

With a burst of Slayer speed, I throw myself at the vampire on my far right. Just before I reach him, I see the cockiness replaced by fear and he tries to run.

I'm too quick for him and punch him so hard I see his teeth break. He falls backwards, clumsily pushes himself up, and tries to fight. Blood from his broken teeth runs down his chin, which quickly gets smeared as the rain picks up.

He stumbles around, and I toy with the idea of drawing the fight out. Instead I do a roundhouse kick, knocking him to the ground once more.

"Have a nice trip back to hell." I grab the stake from my pocket and as I raise it to dust him, the lightening flashes, illuminating his monstrous visage. With one swift motion, my stake comes down to neatly slice through his heart like it was butter.

Thunder booms and the rain begins to fall in intensity. I spot Helena playing with her vampire like the predator she is.

"Oh, come now. You can do better than that," she taunts.

Helena circles the vampire, whose eyes dart any which way trying to find a way to escape. The vampire sees me and blanches. I almost feel sorry for him: face a 100 year old vampire from the bloodline of the Master, or a Vampire Slayer?

I smirk at him and just watch as Helena makes the decision for him.

The lightning flashes, illuminating her features and quicker than anything, Helena grabs him roughly. Her stake hits its target in perfect timing with the boom of the thunder and he turns to dust.

The cold rain pounds the earth, my breath coming out in puffs. But I don't feel the cold. Instead I feel keyed up, hot from the fight and incredibly turned on. Helena shakes off her demon and as we look at each other, my temperature rises even higher.

Before either of us realizes it, we are kissing feverishly in the pouring rain.

In that moment, I feel more alive and more happy than I have ever been.

\------

~~~~~~~~~~

I feel edgy, and I know the release I need is not lying next to me.

After having sex, Sam is snoring softly beside me. We've slept together enough that I know he's so deep he won't hear me.

Still, I make as little noise as possible as I slip out from under the covers and get dressed. I forego my jacket, feeling too warm for it despite the chill of the fall night.

It is easy to sneak out, and I'm grateful Mom and Tracy left for the weekend.

I breathe in the cool air, my warm breath illuminating in the light from the streetlamp. Grinning, I take off at high speed, heading towards one of Sunnydale's numerous graveyards.

I feel full of energy, my Slayer feeling free and loose. She is chasing, fighting, and staking any vampire she can find. It's cold, but my body has only grown hotter since I've been out here.

The threat of rain is beginning as the lightening rips through the sky and the thunder sounds in the distance.

Before long, the threat is a reality as the rain falls; light at first, but faster than I realize the rain turns heavy.

I know at this point it's fruitless to search for vamps, actually have the good sense to stay out of the rain. I consider heading into the sewers to find a vamp nest but I finally feel I've had my release and head back home.

Once there I remove my wet clothing and throw them in the dryer, fairly certain Sam won't hear the noise from upstairs. I grab a tank top and pj bottoms from the basket of clean clothes lying on top of the dryer and head to the downstairs bathroom. It provides towels and a hair dryer, both used to fool Sam into believing I never left the house.

I try my best to be stealthy but Sam senses me climbing back into bed. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me into him, mumbling,"Come here. I'll keep you warm."

"Thanks," I whisper, my body temperature cooling considerably since returning home.

"No problem. Good thing it's nice and dry in here, but the rain doesn't sound too bad."

"It was storming earlier," I say.

"Oh, yeah? Man, I must of been really gone. You wore me out you know. It's no wonder I wasn't aware of it." I feel the grin spread across his face buried in my neck.

I don't answer and drowsiness sinks in. As I slip into slumber, the feeling of Sam's arms and the body behind me begins to feel different and decidedly feminine.

My release is complete. 

~~~~~~~~~~

*****

The punching bag is clear on the other side of the room. 

My last clear memory is hitting the bag, hard. It's the first time it flew off the hook. 

I'm panting, sweating from the exertion and bend over to put my hand on my thighs. I came to my workout room today, hoping to take my frustrations out on the punching bag and not think of anything at all. 

That was an exercise in futility. 

The memories of each failed relationships were vivid, as evident by the punching bag against the far wall. 

Before he talks, I hear Pete come into the room. I'd know his footsteps anywhere.

"I'd hate to see the other guy. Or vamp."

"What do you want, Pete?" I glance at him, the sweaty few unruly curls which refuse to stay despite my attempt to tightly pin my hair back. 

Pete shrugs. "I came in to check on my best friend."

I straighten my body, blatantly ignoring his gaze. Instead I do some stretching, silently avoiding the topic I feel guilty about; namely how I treated Pete yesterday. 

I irritably shove the stray curls away and eye Pete who suddenly seems to have come to a decision. The next thing I know he's standing in front of me in a fighting stance.

"Pete," I droll. "What are you doing?"

"Okay, Mykes, here's the deal: If I beat you, you talk to me. If you beat me, I go away and you can finish destroying the punching bag instead of dealing with..." he gestures in some vague way towards me, "whatever is going on."

I scowl, aware it will only take one hit to bring him down. I also am aware Pete knows it too. I can't decide whether to be angry and annoyed with him or strangely enough, grateful he is pushing me to talk. 

Pete sees my indecision and goads me. "Come on, Myka. Unless you're afraid of the big, bad Petester." He grins and makes some sort of ridiculous punches in the air. 

I scoff, "As if." I settle into a fighting stance. "All right, big bad Pete, let's see if you can defeat the Slayer."

"Okay, Slayer, get ready to have your ass handed to you."

"Wait a sec." I abruptly hold up my hands and step back. "I think we should establish some ground rules." I really should give him some sort of chance, plus I don't want to hurt him. 

"Okay." Pete relaxes his stance. "Like what?" 

"Well, defeat doesn't mean 'knocking someone out'. Whoever knocks the other one on the mat first wins. No kicking a man when he's down." I nod decisively. Then realizing my use of pronouns I correct quickly, "Er, I mean no kicking a person when they're down." I grimace at my words but Pete just chuckles good-naturedly. 

Pete shifts into a fighting stance again. "Okay, Slayer, show me what you got." 

I almost laugh at his ridiculous line. Pete suddenly charges, which I side step easily and watch him tumble onto the mat. He sits up, his hair slightly tousled and pouts. Pete looks like such a little boy who was denied his ice cream cone, I can't help but feel my mood lighten a bit at the sight. 

"Hey!" Pete protests. "Okay, since I'm a mere human, I get another chance." 

I roll my eyes at his need to change the rules but give in. "Fine. We'll go again." 

Pete starts to stand but grimaces. "Jeez, Mykes, I think I twisted my ankle." 

Oh, God!

I run over in a panic. "Oh my gosh, Pete. I'm so sorry!" As I squat down to take a look, he suddenly pushes me and I fall backwards onto the mat. 

"Yes!" Pete yells. He jumps up and does a little dance. "Who's the man? Who's the man? That's right; Pete's the man!" He crows, while I just look at him in disbelief. "I defeated the big bad Slayer!"

I jump up, now angry at my best friend for tricking me. "Pete! You cheated!" 

"Nun uh!" He actually sticks his tongue out at me. 

"Yes you did!" I get in his face. "You so did, Pete!" 

Pete gives me a faux innocent look. "You said whoever knocks the other one down on the mat first wins. You never said HOW we could do that. So technically I did not cheat. You're just mad," Pete pokes me in the chest, "because you were fooled."

I glare at him, huffing and puffing in anger. Damn him. Pete is right. This man child tricked me and I fell for it. 

I turn and stomp over to grab a fresh towel. "Goddammit, Pete. I am MAD because I thought you were seriously injured. That I hurt you." And to my annoyance I choke a bit on those last words, fighting tears.

I hear Pete come up behind me, and he lays his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, hey, hey, Mykes. I didn't mean to upset you. But let's face it; not to give your ego a boost or anything, there was no way I would've beat you otherwise. You're way too strong and good to lose to me. Besides, my fighting skills...well...they could use a little fine tuning, you could say." He gently squeezes my shoulder, quickly amending, "Not that my fighting skills are BAD or anything..."

I nod, releasing something between a laugh and a sob and then turn around. I don't know what he sees on my face but suddenly I'm tugged into a Pete-hug. 

"Yeah, your fighting skills do suck," I mumble into his shoulder.

"Hey! I said not that great, not suck!" 

I smile, feeling much better and release the embrace. "You know, I can always work with you to improve your fighting skills."

"Maybe." Then Pete becomes serious and says, "Now a deal is a deal. I expect some verbage on what's going on with you." 

"Okay, okay." I suddenly feel drained, emotionally and physically. We plop down onto the mat and I throw the towel uncharacteristically over to the side instead of tossing into the small laundry basket behind me. 

I spot the boxing bag in the distance, mentally filling away the need to retrieve it. I can feel Pete's eyes on me as I hesitate, and I guess he's now tired of waiting as he nudges my shoulder.

"I'm not gonna go anywhere 'til you talk, Mykes."

I break off my stare at the boxing bag and shift into a cross legged position. Despite facing him, I refuse to look up. "I don't know, Pete. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Okay before this goes any further, I feel the need to mention there is nothing wrong with you, Myka."

I glance up and can see his sincerity, but then he ruins it by shifting into teasing mode. "Except for your eating habits."

"My eating habits?!" Pete has my full attention now at this ridiculous statement.

"Yeah, this obsession with no sugar...except for your secret stash of Twizzlers, and when you are upset like yesterday, bestie. One of these days, you and I are having a discussion of changing this pattern. Denying yourself my mom's freshly baked cookies and cakes is a sin, Myka, pure sin," Pete replies with a firm nod of his head.

I roll my eyes. He's such a big goof, but I wouldn't want him any other way. 

"Pete, I eat your pancakes, you know," I retort.

"Yeah, but that's to make you feel better. Wouldn't it be great to have sweet goodness on a regular basis?"

"Pete, I am not beating up the punching bag because of my sugar intake!" I rub the back of my neck, feeling frustrated. "Look, I just...just...don't understand...things..."

"Pretty cryptic there, Mykes. Give me specifics."

"I don't understand why I can't be happy with Sam, I guess. I mean out of all of my romantic relationships, this is my most quote unquote normal. He is always there...." I say, pensively. "Shouldn't that be enough? Shouldn't I be satisfied, and I don't know....pleased about this?"

"You aren't though," Pete states more than asks.

I laugh derisively. "No, I'm not. I'm really not."

"Myka, I've known you for three years, and was there when you were Called. You save the world everyday. I know I'll never get what you go through, but sometimes you'll give me a glimpse of what you do, and I'm just amazed at your strength. I couldn't do it, that's for sure. But yeah, I worry. I've seen you so dark and so intense from fighting demons or whatever else the Hellmouth throws at you and I'm scared for you. I worry, Myka, you won't be able to come back from it. The Slayer will just take over.

"We Scoobies try our best to help out. I'm not sure you know this, but all of us know one thing: we know we aren't you, and we know in the end it comes down to you. 

"But you know what? I also see my very human best friend; an eighteen year old dorky girl who loves books, spazzes when she doesn't get an 'A' on a test, is scared and excited about college, but is still insecure and really doesn't know what an awesome person she is." 

I sniffle at his mini speech, but then he kinda spoils it with his next words.

"But I hate to break it to you, bestie: you're stupid."

"What?! I am NOT stupid!" I protest. "I am so far from stupid, it's ridiculous. I am on the other side of stupid-"

"Myka! Calm down!" Pete interrupts. "I didn't mean INTELLECTUALLY. We all know you're like a total genius."

"Oh." I feel better, and slightly mollified. Then it strikes me; I don't know what he means. 

"Okay, so WHY am I stupid?"

Pete grins and puffs out his chest, like he has some sort of great insight and is morally superior. 

"I MEAN...stupid emotionally wise." I scowl, and he gestures in surrender. "Hey, I'm including myself in this statement."

"You mean, I'm immature?" Not happy with this explanation either. 

"Yeah...I guess I do...I don't know. Hey, my immaturity level is way down there, way lower than yours. I know it sounds weird, me actually being self aware guy. I may not have super powers, but I can see things sometimes you don't. You're my bestie, Myka, I know you better than anybody, and well...I'm here to tell you; you're stupid." He shrugs, unrepentant.

Pete-logic is really annoying some days. Unfortunately, he actually can be insightful, even if he takes awhile to get there. 

"Okay, so let's say I accept your declaration of my stupidity," I say, deciding to play along, "HOW, specifically, am I stupid?"

Pete rubs his neck and scratches under his chin. I can tell he's dreading to say what he really means.

"Come on, Pete! Just spit it out already!"

"I said yesterday, and I will say it again: You have to choose, Myka. Let Sam go, or give it your all. It's not fair to you, or him." The glare I give him could melt steel, but he continues, undeterred. "Look, you forget, I was there when you were with Faith the Psycho Slayer and Helena the Mysterious British Vampire With A Soul who really should be called 'No soul British Vampire Helena because I broke Myka's heart'.

"I remember holding you when you cried over Faith because you had no choice but to kill her after she purposely went out and got herself Turned. I remember how you went on a rampage, going after every demon and going alone into every vampire nest you could find when Helena left. We were all scared you would get hurt or get yourself killed. Remember what Giles had to do?" He finishes. 

"Yeah," I reply. "He shot me with the tranquilizer gun and stuck me into that cage in the library! I still haven't completely forgiven him for that." 

"Hey, look at the bright side. At least you weren't naked when you woke up."

"True. I don't know how Steve does it some days." I remember Steve's first change on the full moon. He'd been bitten while visiting some family in Canada.

"Yeah, he is so zen. It's hard to believe he goes all Remus Lupin once a month." 

"At least we only used the tranquilizer gun on him a couple of times. I'm glad he has a safe place to be during the change since we can't use the library anymore." 

Our high school library had a cage which I think was originally used for overstock of books, and reference materials. Once I became Slayer, Giles used it to store some of my weapons (thank god students at Sunnydale High generally stayed away from the library like the plague).

After Steve began changing with every full moon, we used the cage (weapons removed, of course) to hold him until he was human again. God, the things we used that library for...sometimes I wonder how on earth we were able to get away with it all. But then again our Principal was an idiot, managing to get himself eaten by a giant snake.

"Me too." Pete takes a deep breath, and turns solemn. "I know what it's like to get your heart broken and it sucks." He clears his throat, and drops his gaze to the mat. His next works are so soft I struggle to hear them even with advanced Slayer senses.

"I know how it feels to have someone you love hurt you, and leave you." 

I forget about my own problems, and stare at him. Suddenly I realize Pete is not talking about his father; he is talking about Cordelia Chase. 

She is the most shallow, vapid cheerleader I have ever met. Why he dated her (or really whatever the hell they called it. All they seemed to do was argue and go make out in the janitor's closet) I'll never know. Teenage hormones make you do crazy things, I guess.

"You were in love with Cordelia?!" I feel bad at this coming out incredulously, but it's hard to stop this initial reaction. He grimaces and nods. "Pete, she treated you like shit. Are you a masochist?"

"Myka, you guys never saw the side I did. Away from everyone she could actually be sweet, and even kind. She gave me a special edition of my favorite superhero comic book! It was hard to find, and I know she paid good money. She appreciated the locket I gave her. In case you didn't notice, she wore it everyday. Cordelia put up with all the teasing from everyone just to be with me!"

I stare at him, not knowing what to say. Finally, I ask, "How come you never told me?"

Pete shrugs. "Would you have believed me? Would you really believe she could be a good person, instead of the person who stole my deaf sister's favorite yellow crayon at the age of six?"

"I'm sorry, Pete." I lightly squeeze his knee. "I knew you were hurt, but I had no idea it was that deep." 

"How could you? I can be good about hiding how I truly feel, even from you, Myka. Yeah, sure, I'm 'say anything' guy, but there are still a few things I don't want to talk about." Pete blows out a breath and lightens up a little. "That kinda got away from me." He chuckles. 

"Anyhow, I had to decide how I wanted to deal with it. Mope around and feel hurt or go on with my life, knowing I wasn't responsible for HOW she broke it off with me. 

"I knew we had problems. I should of called it quits before she did, but yeah it hurt. Now I have Amanda. I know you don't really like Amanda, but I love her, Myka." 

"Okay..." In the back of my mind, I recollect how I felt after Pete made me go on a roller coaster ride back in high school. I had never been on one until then, and after that, I decided to never go on one ever again. This may not be a literal roller coaster, but it sure feels like it. 

"She makes me happy. She makes me feel...like I can do anything. I think Amanda's the one, Mykes."

"The one what? As in you're going to marry her?!" I think my eyes are popping out of my skull.

"Maybe not this minute, but I like to think someday I will." Pete is wearing a goofy, lovesick grin. 

I can't believe I missed this. Oh, wait, I do. I feel guilty for being too absorbed in my own problems to notice my best friend's happiness.

"Pete, wow. I don't know what to say. I'm mean, I'm really happy for you. I've been so distracted by my own stuff, I forget about what's happening with everyone else."

"It's okay, Myka." He shrugs. "All of us have had a lot going on, especially you being the Slayer."

"Yes, but you are my best friend. God, I'm such an idiot. There is no excuse! I should have noticed-" 

"Myka!" Pete interrupts my self recriminations, "Really. If it's any consolation, I don't think anybody else realizes, not even Claudia or my mom."

It's not really a consolation, but I'll let it go, and make a mental note to hang out more with my best friend, and all of the Scoobies. It suddenly hits me how much I miss my friends.

"My point is," he gives me a fixed stare, "Sam is not your 'Amanda'. I knew it when you started dating him."

What the hell! 

"Why didn't you say something?!" 

"Would you have listened, if I said so?" Pete has me there; probably not. "Don't hit me for saying this, but Myka, you can be incredibly stubborn."

I narrow my eyes, not happy with this explanation either. "Fine. I won't hit you, but there better be a point to this, Lattimer."

"There is a point, Mykes. Sam is not your 'Amanda'. I don't know what he is actually. 'Rebound guy'?" Pete laughs.

"I think Faith was your 'Cordelia'," he continues, "and I think...I think Helena is your 'Amanda'. I've never seen you so happy. You guys got each other. You both are total literature nerds: read every book there ever was." I roll my eyes at this one. "And you guys totally memorized every one. You talk about stuff none of the rest of us got...except maybe Giles. Sometimes you would do it in some foreign language just to piss me off. Don't deny it." Pete waggles his finger at me. 

I want to deny this accusation, but I admit, there were times we actually DID do it just to piss Pete off. Not many, granted, but it was fun to get him back for some of the teasing he'd given me over the years. 

"Okay, yeah, it's a little weird for a Slayer to fall for a vamp. I'm mean geez! Your official title says you kill vampires. I know how touchy you are about this subject, but you and Helena understand death. She lives in the dark, and so does the Slayer."

"I don't want to be defined my Slayer-ness!" I object, "I want to be more than that, but I feel like I never will be." I feel petulant now. "Nerdy Myka who lives in the sun doesn't exist, Pete." 

"Dammit, Myka! Did I not just cover this?!" Pete reaches out, with what I think is his intention is to shake me, but stops. It's not wise to poke a petulant Slayer. "All I'm saying is, Helena gets that side we can't touch. That doesn't mean that is all there is to you."

He sighs, and I can tell he's exasperated with me. "Look, my point is, if there is one thing the last three years has taught me is things are not as black and white as they seem. Hell, my bestie is a Vampire Slayer, and my other friends are a werewolf and a witch. And the kicker is, I'm in love with a 1000 year-old ex-vengeance demon. So a Vampire Slayer in love with a vampire? Hey, not so out of the ordinary for life in Sunnydale." 

"Yeah, I guess..." 

"But to be honest, I wasn't sure how much I could trust Helena at first. It was kinda weird being around a vamp with a soul. But I'm not blind, Myka. The moment we met her, you were gone, bestie. You even had drool on your chin."

I couldn't help myself; I punch him. "Ow!" He holds his shoulder. "Take it easy." 

"Pete, first off, I did not hit you that hard. Second...well...there was no drool!"

Pete gives me a look that says he knows better, but relents. "Okay, not actual drool, but you get my point."

"You thought she was hot too!" I protest.

"Just because I didn't trust her, didn't mean that I couldn't appreciate that dark, mysterious, rocking hot bod with an awesome British accent-"

"Pete!" He better not be appreciating Helena! "Get back to your point."

"Right. Look, Mykes, you were so upset and broken over Faith. I remember how hard it was for you after. It took four months before you could even say her name! 

"I was worried how you would deal with it when Helena left. Granted, we all knew she was leaving after we stopped Macpherson, but I could tell you were in denial land, bestie." I chew on my lip, knowing once again, Pete was right, and silently promise to myself to never tell him. His head will grow the size of China.

"And I was also worried what would happen if she felt something for you too. She's like a 100 years old, Myka. I got the impression she'd been a player." 

"Did you ever trust her?"

"It was more like I trusted her because I trusted you," he confesses. "I may be your best friend, but I know you didn't tell me everything that happened between you two. It was obvious anyways. And then I saw the way she was with you; the way she looked at you, too." 

My heart races. "How did she look at me?" I remember last night's conversation with Giles, and him admitting he could see her feelings for me. So Giles knows, and Pete knows more than I gave him credit for. I must of been a walking billboard.

"She loved you, Myka."

"If she really was in love with me, then why didn't she say something before she left?" I plea. "I don't even know where she's at, Pete. I mean, come on! If she is my 'Amanda', wouldn't she be here? Wouldn't she have stayed in contact with me?"

Pete is silent for a moment. "This is just my guess, but I think she is the type who would be all 'I've done horrible things, and Myka deserves to be with someone better than me'." He says that last part in a horrible British accent, and it earns him a half chuckle, half sob from me.

"That's stupid." 

Pete chuckles. "Yeah. Guess you can be stupid at any age. I've actually been thinking about it lately...you know maybe we should try again to look for her."

I wipe my face, and say, "I feel like a stalker if I do that. Besides, Claudia probably broke every rule in the book looking up things on the computer, not finding anything. I was worried the FBI was going to show up any minute."

Pete laughs. "Claudia is too good to be caught."

"Well, if she is so good, how come she couldn't find a trace of Helena?"

"She's a vampire, Myka. She's basically been hiding her entire undead life." He rolls his eyes at me and I can see the universal 'Duh!' on his face. "Besides, if someone doesn't really want to be found, the odds are you probably won't find them." 

"Yeah, I guess," I sulk, and he tugs me into a hug.

"At least, let's try one more time. If we actually find her, and she doesn't want to do anything, at least you'll know for sure. If not, you can both go back to being stupid."

I leave his embrace, and laugh. "When did you become so perceptive?"

"Hey! I've always been perceptive guy."

"Yeah, well, okay. Then extra perceptive," I clarify.

Pete shrugs. "Being in love with a 1000 year-old ex-vengeance demon does that to a guy."

"I think it's more than that. You've been going a lot through too. One of these days we are going to have a conversation over chocolate chip pancakes," I promise.

Suddenly, he brightens and exclaims, "Hey, I just realized I have some big news to tell you!" 

"What is it?" I can't help but smile as his excitement.

"I'm moving out of my house. And guess where I'm moving to?"

I don't want to play the guessing game. "Pete..."

"In here!"

"You moving into my workout room?!" I look at him like he's nuts. 

"No, no. I'm moving into the attic above The Magic Box." 

I raise my eyebrows. "So you're moving from the basement of your mom's house to the attic of Giles' store? And this is better because..." 

"Hey, don't mock the room. Have you even been up there?" 

"Well, no," I admit.

"It's actually larger than you'd expect. I'm pretty sure it was where Mr. Bogarty lived when he owned The Magic Box. Well, when he was alive that is. There are two small rooms, and it looks like I can have a microwave and small fridge up there."

"Small fridge? You'll have to run to the store every day. There's no way that fridge can hold enough food for you to survive even 24 hours," I tease.

"There's such a thing as fast food, Myka," he declares.

"Pete, I am not going to let you live on unhealthy fast food, like a McDonald's hamburger."

"Hey!" Pete whines, "I love Big Macs. Besides, Mom said I can come to dinner whenever I want."

"Which will be every night."

"No, not every night. Sometimes a guy needs his space, if you know what I mean." He wiggles his eyebrows at me, so I hit him.

"Pete! That's gross. I do not want to hear about you and Amanda...doing stuff." I scrunch up my face in disgust, and he laughs. "Besides, we hear enough from the mouth of your girlfriend. I don't need to go to a scary visual place anymore!" 

"Okay, okay. I will cease and desist."

"Thank you. So how did you get this fantastic new room?" I ask.

"Giles called me up last night, and offered it to me." 

"Really?" This surprises me. 

"I know! Crazy, right?" His expression is one of childlike wonder, and despite everything, I realize how innocent Pete can still be.

"I wonder why he offered to you right now? Don't get me wrong. I mean, I think it's great and all. I'm just curious how it came up out of the blue?"

"I don't know," he replies, "I wondered myself after we talked. I was so excited when he offered, I didn't ask."

"So did you come to any conclusions?"

He scratches his head, and furrows his brow. "There's only one thing I can think of. Last June, when we were setting up this room, we actually had a nice chat. It was kinda weird talking to Giles about more than just Scooby stuff, or him being annoyed with me about getting food on his books or something like that.

"I can't remember how it started but I said something about wishing I had a place of my own, but didn't have the money. Giles talked about him being all Ripper when he was our age. And yeah, it's still weird to think Giles had a wild side, right? He said how glad he was to get away from living with his parents, and admitted wanting to have a pad so he could have girls over." 

Pete laughs, but I on the other hand am disgusted. 

"God, Pete! Just stop! I really, really, REALLY don't want to think of Giles and...and..."

"His harem of women?" Pete supplies, and I hit him once more.

"Pete, if you don't want to want to join the boxing bag over there by way of my foot, you will stop."

Pete grins. "He made me promise to not tell you this conversation occurred."

"I will never in a million years bring up this conversation!" I shudder, and mummer, "God, now I want to bleach my brain." 

"At any rate, that's the only thing I can think of," he says, shrugging. 

I'm still really curious but nix the idea of asking Giles about it. I don't want to get my best friend in trouble. Yet, I wonder how he can afford it with his finances. I feel awkward about bringing it up, and it must show on my face. 

"It's okay, Myka. He said it was super cheap rent, and mumbled something about me being there all the time, and would help protect the store so I deserve it. But I think he just made that up because he knew I didn't have the money." 

Pete looks a little morose now, so I rush to reassure. "No, no, Pete, Giles doesn't think of you as some charity case or loser. He will probably make you work your ass off in helping with the store."

"Yeah!" His expression clears, and I'm happy to see the relief on his face. "I can already tell I'll be Mr. Fix-it man."

I hug Pete warmly. He deserves this. "I'm really happy for you, Pete." As I pull back, I say shamefully,"I'm sorry how I treated you yesterday. I just...well, there was no excuse."

"It's fine, Myka. Just please think about what I said."

"I will. Things have been getting worse with Sam," I admit. "We had a big argument last night. Look, I have a lot to process before I actually do something permanent." I could see him start to protest, so I add, "But thanks for the push I needed." I smile. "I'll talk to him tonight about taking a break, and we can go from there." I nod decisively, secretly hoping I don't wimp out.

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything; some chocolate chip pancakes maybe."

"Thanks, Pete. I will." I hear the door behind me open, and I turn only to see the object of my frustration standing in the doorway.

The moment I look at Sam, I know the truth, and I feel lighter than I have in a long time.

Neither of us will ever want, or be, what the other needs.

It's time to let Sam go.


	5. Regret and Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena has her own bro talk with Angel about Myka and Buffy, and what it means to be a vampire with a soul in love with a Slayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gives a lot more background for Helena than I originally intended, but apparently the muse had other ideas. Just a few basics:
> 
> 1) I've only seen Season One of Angel, so I'm basing everything off of that for the Angel Investigations office and Angel's living quarters below. I still took liberties with it, so if you are too much of a purist about specifics, you probably shouldn't be reading this story anyways. But overall, it's the same.
> 
> 2) Cordelia has been with Angel for a year and a couple of months at this point. She graduated one year ahead of Myka and Pete at Sunnydale High.
> 
> 3) I don't mention any other people, like Wes or Doyle because I have no need for them at the moment. Also, I hope Angel is not OOC. I find him to be a bit difficult to write, but because I can so envision this relationship I have created between him and Helena, I just had to have him as part of my universe.
> 
> 4) I've seen fanfic writers deal with the specifics of the demon inside a character who is a vampire with a soul in different ways. I've always found it interesting when authors treat the demons as a second character. The demon will "talk" to the character (i.e. Angel) in their mind, and torture them with memories. So, that is what I've done here. Angel hears Angelus while Helena hears her own demon whose name is HG. This is separated by /.
> 
> 5) Helena's soul was originally returned by the Powers that Be, and they formed a contract of sorts. She had to do their bidding basically or lose her soul again. I go into more details, so you'll get the idea then.
> 
> 6) It's AU so timelines such as when Angel is Turned are different from Canon.
> 
> 7) I talk about a "soul test". I base it off of the one Spike went through, but there are differences. Just roll with it.
> 
> 8) Like I stated before, each chapter flips POVs, and this one is entirely from Helena's.
> 
> 9) scene changes are separated by **********

Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves-regret for the past, and fear for the future. -Fulton Oursler

**********

"HG, you have a phone call. It's Giles."

My eyes never stray from the book page which I have currently been staring at for the last hour.

"Don't call me HG."

I don't need to see it, but I know Cordelia Chase is currently rolling her eyes at me.

"Fine. Whatever. HELENA, you have a phone call from Giles. You want to take it or not?"

I toss the well worn book onto Angel's work desk, and meet Cordelia's eyes. "Tell Giles I'll call him back from the apartment."

Instead of complying, Cordelia looks pointedly at the book I placed on the desk.

I notice the look and glare. "What?"

"How many times are you going to read that? I know it's Edgar Allen Poe, which automatically makes him a vampire's best friend, but it's been like over 5,000 times already."

"What on earth are you going on about?" I protest. "Poe is considered one of literature's great gothic novelists by anyone's standards."

"Exactly. Emphasis on gothic: the supernatural, death, darkness, destruction, mystery, curses, black clothing-"

"Cordelia-" I start.

"I'm just saying, you go beyond mad and moody every time you read it."

I stand, and say, "Just tell Giles I will call him back, please."

As I walk to the lift, I overhear a heavy, exaggerated sigh, and the loud response of "You know, Angel doesn't pay me enough to deal with you two and your "I have a soul now, and therefore I will brood" attitudes."

Over my shoulder, I wave dismissively at her words, but realize maybe they wouldn't bother me so much if there wasn't more than a grain of truth to them.

*********

The phone weighs heavy in my palm.

Why is Giles ringing? Could something have happened to Myka? I dread the day it does. Sometimes I wonder if this is the real reason I left; after Christina, witnessing the only other person I felt such love for end in tragedy was something I couldn't bear to see.

In my own twisted logic, I felt staying away would protect her because I only bring pain to those I love, which is absolutely ridiculous when you think about it. She is the Slayer, and as so, her time is very limited on this morbid plane of existence. The notion of my staying away from her has no bearing; she will die soon whether I am there or not.

It is my selfishness manifesting once again; I stayed away to protect myself, not her.

Unknown to Myka, in order to keep my soul, I had to keep my contract with the Powers that Be. It was only this past July that I found a way to break this contract and find another way to return my soul permanently with no conditions attached.

If I so wished, a return to Sunnydale was a real possibility. Not to stay permanently of course. I could still work for Angel. I'm certain he would be open to working around this. A long distance relationship with frequent extended visits perhaps? Angel would have understood from his own relationship with Buffy Summers, a Slayer from seventeen years ago.

We have discussed our love for our respective Slayers in the past, but there were things I knew both of us omitted. We are both private individuals, despite knowing each other in some form of incarnation for over a century.

Like me, Darla is Angel's Sire. However, he was Turned later than I, at the very beginning of the twentieth century. Our demons HG and Angelus's relationship had been a mixture of friendship, love, loathing, in equal measure at times, and it still seems that way, at least in HG's case. From what I can tell from Angel, it sounds like Angelus feels the same way.

I remember how Angelus would piss HG off with his at times smug misogyny. After a certain amount of time, HG could stand it no more. She went off on her own, away from Angelus, Darla, and the other members of their vampire family, all created through the Master's bloodline.

My own relationship with Angel leans much more towards friendship and caring than animosity, but like everything else in our lives it is still influenced by the demons within each of us.

When I came to Angel Investigations twelve years ago, I was a mess but he was there to pick up the pieces, and eventually became my closest confidante.

Angel's own soul was returned through a gypsy's curse. One moment of true happiness, and he would lose his soul. This happened during his time with Buffy after they made love for the first time. He has yet to tell me the details, but from what I do know, the return of his soul came about the same way. Since then, he has a great fear of losing it again and only allows himself limited happiness.

For my part, the fear had come in the form of my soul leaving my body by an act of the Powers resulting in HG having free reign.

Angelus had been known as 'The Scourge of Europe' for his ruthlessness, but HG came to be known as 'The Black Panther of Death', due to her similar characteristics to a black cat in the form of hunting prey and her appearance. Dark, deadly, cunning, sleek, sadistic, mysterious, and beautiful were the words most often used to describe her.

Angelus got off on creating his masterpieces involving innocents, while my own demon had the most fun in capturing and torturing those other undesirables out there: murderers, rapists, serial killers, and the gestapo for example.

HG loved the chase as many of these men were a challenge to find, and as many were either sadistic (or stupid enough to be caught), HG loved one upping them by her own version of pain, which was often more horrible than they could imagine.

Some may say these criminals deserved these fates, but this does not mean I enjoy being a witness to my own handiwork everyday and every night courtesy of HG's constant barrage of vivid memories she throws up in my mind.

Strangely enough, HG avoided hurting and killing any children, as if their defenselessness personally offended her, and the subsequent torture and killing of those who murdered Helena's daughter was pure delight.

According to my Sire Darla, "What we were informs what we become".

Therefore, I'm not really surprised my demon enjoyed these activities. When I was Turned, my own soul had grown so dark, filled with sorrow and hate towards the men who had murdered my daughter.

I can say however, I was certainly pleased my love of the written word, curiosity, and need to invent stayed with me in some form. In society, I had been able to seduce men and women in equal measure. In HG, these traits seemed to have increased threefold.

Preferring her trousers, waist coat, vest, and men's dress shirt, HG was quite the rouge and full of swagger. I never had much difficulty holding my liquor as a human or at times enjoying a night out. As for HG, she was gleeful and loved having a good time with wine, women, and song. Men were included, but HG preferred anything sexual with a woman, and gained the reputation of a player.

On her travels, HG had come across an assortment of demons, including those whose sole purpose was to enact vengeance through the form of someone's wish.

A number of these Vengeance Demons had remarked at HG's skill in the art of revenge, saying she gave them a run for their money. HG promptly explained she had no interest in retribution, only the chase and subsequent torture and killing. And then promptly went about seducing them, even those vengeance demons who normally had no interest in same sex relations.

Naturally the seduction worked, even if the interest lasted only for one night. HG made sure they never forgot the pleasure, and more than one vengeance demon walked away with a big smile on her face.

The Powers that Be came along quite suddenly, and decided to return my soul for their own nefarious purposes, which I have never quite discovered due to their annoying penchant for talking in riddles which even I cannot always decipher their true meaning.

HG was in Los Angeles when it happened, and was aware Angel lived there. She had toyed with wanting to see him, partly out of curiosity, partly out of contempt for having his having a soul, and partly out of a strange affection for Angelus whom she hadn't seen in years.

The moment my soul had returned, the guilt over past deeds had been unimaginable.

Logically I knew wasn't responsible as my demon committed the atrocities.

But truly I was responsible, was I not? I was the one who went into this with eyes wide open; I gladly allowed Darla to Turn me.

Angel had been sent by the Powers to find me, and at first, I thought he was a hallucination. I was on the edge on insanity, and I would have simply walked into the sun if he hadn't arrived when he did.

It took time, but eventually with Angel's help, I was able to make it through the day and night without wanting to stake myself.

Instead, I focused on what Angel taught me: doing what I can to make retribution for the atrocities the demon committed. The hardest part of this was to acknowledge you could never do enough to atone for those horrible deeds.

My assigned role by the Powers was to work with Angel. We collect supernatural artifacts as well as help those in need through his business "Angel Investigations". Or, as Cordelia put it, we "help the helpless".

Angel and I once had a long conversation about why the Powers returned my soul; after all, any vampire could have helped in this situation.

We had our theories of course; my connection to Angel, my brilliance, a roll of the dice. Or, perhaps, I was simply in the right place at the right time.

There was also talk of a Prophecy. However, this has never been substantiated, no matter how much research we did.

Coming to Sunnydale last January was intended for one purpose, and one purpose only; collect the many artifacts stolen by James Macpherson in order for him to ascend to a high demon in order to create literal hell on earth.

What I did not anticipate was how attached I would become to a certain beautiful Slayer named Myka Bering.

Myka is magnificent in so many ways that she has yet to discover, and probably never will, as I'm more than aware she's living on borrowed time.

After leaving Sunnydale, I went back to Angel Investigations, and known only to Giles, I continue my original assignment of collecting artifacts from Sunnydale as well.

Now however, I collect the artifacts directly from Giles himself.

As Watcher, making sure artifacts were delivered to me was designated as part of his duties. However, until last year, he nor anyone else in Sunnydale, knew I was the one who picked them up from a designated hiding place. The artifacts were often considered so dangerous, they wanted Watchers to know next to nothing, which admittedly I don't agree with myself. There were certain artifacts I wished I could have kept to aid Myka in whatever trouble she was facing, especially when it was dire. I absolutely abhorred I was allowed no contact with Myka until it was unavoidable.

I watched her every step of the way, from first activation until the moment I met her. I must admit, it sounds like a stalker when I put it this way, but watching her actually required it on some levels.

She was so smart. Keeping her from discovering who I was and the pickup location for the artifacts became increasingly difficult, not to mention hiding from the Scoobies. A more determined group I don't believe I have ever met, and a group of friends I have never been more grateful for in their devotion to Myka. Without them, I have no doubt she would be dead by now, despite how excellent she is as a Slayer.

I am disconcerted at the idea of how Myka will react to Giles withholding information on where I've been, and even that he's talked to me. I know how Myka sees Giles; a father she for all intents and purposes she never had.

Events from the past created trust issues for Myka, to the point that there was a time she was unable to look past it and forgive him. I feel tremendous guilt at what may be the cause of this possible irreversible rift between them when this eventually comes to light, as Giles and I both know even if we try to pretend otherwise.

Even if at the time, it was beyond either Giles' or my control.

My orders came not only from the Powers that Be, but also from Mrs. Frederic. She is the mysterious Caretaker of Warehouse 13, the secret facility our artifacts were (and still are) placed in. I had had limited dealings with her up to that point, as Angel and I were to have limited knowledge of where the artifacts were stored in the end.

She was a straightforward candid woman, intimidating in her own manner, but I held high respect for her. Mrs. Frederic order for me to leave without saying goodbye to Myka, and never having contact with her from that day forward more than tested my respect.

My indignation was so bad, I nearly lost control. I could barely hold off HG from making an appearance, whom I swear takes any upset of mine as an excuse to cause physical damage to anything or anyone who happens to be in the vicinity.

In the end, I caved but I was extremely bitter, and let Mrs. Frederic know this in no uncertain terms, which she took placidly. All I received in return was, "It was necessary, Helena, and you have been around long enough to understand why." Before I had a chance to reply, she had disappeared.

True, Mrs, Frederic was sent as a reminder of my duties (though I am not entirely clear this reminder came specifically from the Powers themselves). However, I believe Mrs. Fredric was aware I may have caved as well, and was concerned I would renege on my deal with the Powers causing me to lose my soul.

She was more than aware at my impetuous nature, and as for how she discovered my deep feelings for Myka, I can't say, but I felt this to be an this intrusion of the highest order.

However, Mrs Frederic had always struck me as to have a keen perception, and my passions around Myka grew particularly difficult to hide as time went by.

Whatever the case, this proved to be my breaking point for the provisions set by the Powers that Be. I decided to research an ancient soul test I had learned of in years previous. It was rumored to be a myth, but I have learned there are often truths hidden in myths; maybe not the ones we seek, but some form of truth exists nonetheless.

The actual soul test was through a legendary shaman in Asia. It consisted of grueling physical, mental, and emotional tests. I went in search of the exact location without Angel's knowledge, aided by a talented witch by the name of Willow Rosenberg. She was able to help me break the contract with the PtB enabling me to complete the soul test.

Willow was also there as insurance.

She was a strong enough witch to cast a binding spell to hold HG, and had a default way to return my soul through the same curse as Angel, an idea I was less than amenable to.

In the end, everything went smoother than I anticipated, and fortunately, Willow's assistance was minimal. My mind had been so centered on researching and passing the soul test, that when it was over, and I was free to pursue Myka, I was brought up short.

So many things I would be asking her to forgive. Would she be open to not only my explanations of why I had to leave as I did, and why only Giles was allowed to stay in contact with me? Would she be open enough to accept my past...my whole past...the good and the bad. There was so much she did not know. Things not the Watchers or Giles even knew.

Did she still feel for me as I did for her? I knew her feelings were deep, but could they have waned overtime?

After everything, after all of this, would Myka even WANT to pursue a relationship with me?

As time went on in my inaction, I grew frightened and made up excuses for not trying. When Myka began dating that boy Sam, I essentially gave up, telling myself it was better for her.

Sam was human. He can be with her in the light as well as the dark.

How can I possibly compete with that?

She was better off without me.

/Liar/

My demon's opinion was not something I was looking for in relation to these heavy thoughts, and I told her so.

'Shut it. You know nothing about this.'

/What are you talking about? Of course I know. I was around for all of this, remember?/

'How could I possibly forget. You remind me at every opportunity.'

/Somebody needs to remind you what a piss ant you are, denying yourself the chance to bag another Slayer. They have incredible stamina, you know. But I suppose you already know that, considering that one in Budapest we fucked like crazy before we drained her. Ah, good times, eh?/

I grit my teeth and shake my head in the futile effort at purging the thoughts and images my demon supplies me.

For a vampire, a Slayer provides the ultimate aphrodisiac. The thought of killing one or fucking one or drinking the nectar that is Slayer's blood is incredibly difficult to resist.

'First, do not ever bring up that time in Budapest again. Second, I would never do that to Myka. Ever.'

/Okay, first, to you, I will bring up Budapest as much as I like. Second, don't tell me you don't want to shag that Slayer of yours like crazy. You forget, Helena, I know you, and I can certainly feel your...attraction, shall we say...or maybe raw animal lust? Oh wait, that's me!/

I refuse to answer her, and ignore her laughter, doing my best to push her down so I can think more clearly.

I go to my room and gather supplies to do what I do best: invent.

**********

"Come on, Helena, stop and talk to me."

I'm sitting in the middle of his couch, hunched over, pen in hand scribbling out plans for my newest invention. My blueprints take up the entirety of Angel's coffee table.

This came about not as a source of inspiration as opposed to a source of distraction. I had convinced myself otherwise, and had spent the last half hour scribbling away.

"Angel, go away," I mutter.

"I'll go away when you stop putting dents in my table with your compass."

I sigh, and place the math compass off to the side. "Happy now?" I glance up at him in irritation.

"Very. Hungry? I'm warming up dinner."

My demon perks up at this, and I feel the insatiable hunger for blood. Unable to help it, my demon flashes on my face before retreating. Angel sees it, and smirks before walking away.

I growl. "Not fair, Angel."

"Hey, I never said I played fair." I hear his voice fade as he enters his kitchen.

Damn him. I know what he's doing, and I do not wish to speak to him. The trouble is, if I follow him into the kitchen, I will do just this.

I hesitate, at war with myself, when I hear the protests of my demon.

/What are you doing?! Go over there, and join him! I'm hungry./

'You are always hungry.' I internally roll my eyes, but give in. Just as I step into the kitchen, I hear the microwave ding. In one swift move, he brings out the blood in my favorite cup, handing it to me, and then promptly puts his in the microwave.

Smug bastard. But my demon rises to the surface, greedily drinking the blood.

/At least he got cow's blood this time instead of pig's blood. I can't stand pig's blood./

'Shut up. You would drink any type of blood shoved in front of your pathetic face.'

/You are the one who is pathetic by accepting anything but human blood./

I do not want to admit I long for human blood but I do, and I can hear my demon laugh at my non reply.

Angel gives me a pointed look, and says, "Let me guess: HG is whining about no human blood."

I hand Angel my empty cup, and he cleans it, setting it next to his in the dish rack.

"Naturally. I don't even know why I bother to acknowledge her grumbling."

/Hey, I don't grumble! I speak the truth./

I shove her down as far as I can now, which is much easier, considering she is sated from being fed.

"Sit." Angel nods at the table chair. He is most likely the only one I would let order me around like this; although the thought of Myka doing so is appealing for entirely different reasons.

I glare at him, but concede nonetheless. "Giles called."

He frowns. "Is something wrong?"

The digital clock on Angel's microwave reads 2:30 p.m, and I can easily imagine Myka studying in the October sun, perhaps with her friends or even her boyfriend by her side.

A place I can never join her.

But then my mind slides into a picture of Myka critically wounded in the hospital, quickly dissolving into me standing in front of her grave.

I grind the heel of my hand into the table, and Angel reaches over to stop my movement.

"Helena. What happened?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? How can you not know?"

I see traces of exasperation on his face before I avoid his eyes, and mumble, "I haven't EXACTLY called him...as of yet, that is."

I see him roll his eyes in the periphery of my vision, and he relaxes into the back of his chair. "You know, until you actually talk to him, you won't know. It could be anything, Helena." He pauses, then says, "Not...you know..."

"I am aware of what it may or may not be, Angel." I raise my head in indignation.

"It doesn't mean Myka is hurt," he shoots back.

"And it does not mean she is safe either," I retort.

"I know I've never met Myka but considering she's lasted this long means something."

I hear his attempt at reassurance, and I can tell he believes what he's saying, but my anxieties are too high at the moment, and every conceivable scenario continues to run through my mind. My hand unconsciously flies up to grab my locket, and I hold it like a death grip. I know Angel recognizes the nervous gesture, but stays silent.

My thoughts stray towards Woolly, and suddenly I miss him so very much.

"Do you know throughout my time on this blasted earth she is literally the only one I would consider an equal?" I say in wonder.

"I have had many lovers in my time, as you know. I have also met (and sometimes bed) many famous poets, authors, academics." I stare directly at Angel, and emphasize, "In all of my travels, I have never met anyone who not only comes close to my intelligence level and knowledge, but who also understands the darkness that permeates my soul and who lives in the night as well."

This is the first time I have articulated my full feelings regarding Myka to anyone, and listening to the words as they spill out, I realize how true they are.

"Myka is strong and confident in many ways, not just as the Slayer. And yet, she still has something I lost a long time ago: a certain innocence which would she would protest greatly if she were here right now. She is lovely, and if she had more time left...she would eventually become the embodiment I had always wished for every woman in this world to become."

I close my eyes, and speak the truth I loathe to be reminded of. "Unfortunately, she will never realize her true potential, and I grieve for her in this regard."

/ There IS something we can do about that./

Abruptly, my eyes fly open, and I stand so forcefully, the chair topples. Slapping my hand on the table, I scream at my demon.

"I will NEVER Turn her! Do you understand me, you bastard?!"

/Fine. Whatever. I am just pointing out what you are too self righteous to do./

"If I had the capacity, I would throw you out of my body, and kill you where you stand!" I fist my hands, and as so often before, I am full of anger at not only my demon, but myself as well. If I thought it would make a difference, I would use my time machine to go back to that fateful night with Darla, and never let myself be Turned. It is most likely fortuitous that I do not know where it is located, the temptation is too great some days.

/You could never take me. I would destroy your pathetic human self. We are stuck with each other. I may not be able to physically fight you, but I will always be here to remind you what we did./

All of sudden, there is an onslaught of horrendous memories of HG torturing and killing and enjoying it, and I feel sick.

/See?/ I hear the smug tone. /There is absolutely nothing you can do about it./

I hit the table again and feel the sting of tears. Before I try to leave, Angel is up and wraps me in his arms.

I feel like fleeing and probably could. Angel is strong, but so am I. Whenever HG grew upset with Angelus, their fights would inevitably turn into a draw.

But Angel's embrace feels too comforting, and the urge to leave slowly fades.

It reminds me of my sweet Woolly. However, I know Angel understands my pain because he lives with the exact same torment everyday, whereas Woolly lacked full understanding of the anguish I felt after Christina's death.

Angel stays silent, simply holding me, while I compose myself. Eventually, I successfully shove HG down and push Angel away, clearing my throat. Without looking at him, I right the chair and apologize. "I'm sorry, Angel." He squeezes my shoulder, and walks into his bedroom, where I hear him rummaging around.

"Come in here, Helena," I hear him call.

I run a hand through my long raven hair, not quite in the mood to continue what has already been emotionally exhausting, but give in to curiosity.

Still, as I step inside his bedroom, I grumble somewhat irritably, "Why am I in here?"

Angel just shoots me a smile and covers up a small safe with a picture.

"You have a safe! I would like to know why I don't have the same thing." I cross my arms, scowling.

"Come on, Helena, don't play dumb with me. I already know you have one somewhere in your bedroom, and it's probably impossible to break into. I bet you even invented the damned thing."

If a vampire could blush, I would be doing so at the moment. "What?! I have no such thing," I protest.

He just looks at me with his stupid smirk and raises an eyebrow.

"Have you been in my room? You know we have a long standing agreement not to go into each other's bedroom without an invitation!"

Before he has a chance to respond, I change tracks, becoming snooty. "No matter. If I did invent such a thing, you would have no chance of opening it anyways. It would be my invention after all; far superior to any other."

"Helena, come on." Angel rolls his eyes dramatically; a reaction courtesy of Cordelia's influence no doubt. "You are protesting way too much for someone who is telling the truth."

"What did you wish to show me?" I deflect.

His smirk widens briefly before disappearing, knowing he won the argument. Then his face takes on a soft look as he brings forth a ring box from his shirt pocket.

When he opens it, I see a claddagh ring. As Angel is Irish, I recognize the significance.

"You gave this to Buffy to cement your bond with her," I say.

Angel's smile is sad and he replies, "Yes. It was as close as we could get to marriage, although the topic did come up at one point." He grins ruefully. "Buffy wanted to do it. She wanted to run right out to a justice of the peace. It was at that moment when I knew, or should I say, THOUGHT I knew it was time to go. Just the act of getting married would have given me so much happiness, I probably would have lost my soul in the middle of the ceremony.

"If I had the chance, I would give anything to do so. I would figure out a way," Angel admits, the words laced with pain and regret. "But I was intent on being righteous, thinking I couldn't give her the life she deserved.

"So I left. And six months later, she was dead. But that was still six months I could have had with her, not to mention the guilt about not being there in the end, constantly tormenting myself with what ifs. If I was there, maybe I could have helped to defeat the threat. I could have sacrificed myself so she would be alive longer." He pauses and stares, lost in memories I expect.

His words call to mind Christina, and how often I had the exact same exact sentiment, leading to near insanity and voluntarily turning into a monster to deal with the pain.

I actually have a way now, to have that extra time with someone I love, and out of stubbornness and fear I hold back.

I am a genius, yet I am an emotional coward.

Angel stays in those memories for awhile, and I let him come back in his own time rather than disturb him. I know he will return when he is ready, and sure enough, after about five minutes he does, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry about that."

I rub his arm in reassurance. "It's fine, Angel. Really."

He clears his throat and then continues. "I heard she hardened after I left. I thought maybe she could find someone...a normal guy who could give her what she needed. It turns out I was wrong. I saw her friends later and they told me she never was the same after I left. I had the feeling they blamed me for her not staying alive longer. While she hardened, she never hesitated to take on things without consideration. She began to ignore the help from both her friends and her Watcher."

Angel sits down on his bed, but there is no grace of a vampire in the act. Instead, it is as if his body became too heavy to stand through too much emotional weight.

"She died not knowing how much I still, and will, always love her, and really what a coward I was for not staying."

Angel leans forward, head down, and speaks so softly if I wasn't a vampire, it would be near impossible to hear him.

"So, among other things I've done, now I carry the burden of guilt of what happened with Buffy."

"Angel," I speak gently, "it wasn't your fault. No one can help falling in love. No one can control this."

He looks up at me in earnest. "Exactly my point, Helena! Neither of us could help falling in love with a Slayer, but we both know, we wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Buffy was extraordinary, and from what I've heard from you, so is Myka, especially if she can make the great Helena who can charm the skin off a snake fall in love with her."

Despite the gravity of the situation, I chuckle softly. Both HG and Angelus were arrogant about their looks and ability to enchant anyone; so much so, bets were often made over seducing various women, and even a few times, over men as well.

"Look, while I couldn't control falling in love with Buffy, I could control my actions. I know it was hard when I said goodbye on her. On both of us."

Angel looks so morose, I don't know what to say. Instead, I gingerly sit on the bed next to him and tug him into an embrace.

After a moment, I let go, and he tucks the ring box back into his pocket. "You don't have the worry I did. No matter what happens, you won't lose your soul. We can work something out here. You won't be able to be with her all the time, but as long distance relationships go, the time I can let you have with her will be quite a bit.

"I know we never talk about Christina. I only know bits and pieces of what happened. But loving Myka does not put her in jeopardy; not being with her does. Have you thought at all about how Myka feels with this?"

"Of course I have! I talk to Giles about how she's doing!"

"Really, Helena? You've told me in the past he's like a father to her. If you were in his situation, how do you think you would feel talking about your child with the person who probably hurt her more than anyone else?"

I jump up, incensed. "Do not speak to me about how to be a parent, Angelus!" I seethe, morphing into game face.

/Fuck! Let's kick his smug ass! You know you want to, Helena./

The truth is, my demon is right; I want to hit Angel. Hard.

For being right, for understanding, for the memories of feeding on people with Angelus, for watching him torture innocents while ignoring it, for my own stupidity, even for my lost time with Myka.

My self hatred is overflowing and Angel is the perfect outlet for my anger.

I see Angelus briefly, before Angel morphs back to his human face. The struggle to keep Angelus at bay is unmistakable.

"Helena, put your demon away." Angel's voice is rough, and I know it will take little to push Angelus fully out. With our demons having an outright fight, things may be said and done we might never recover from.

But I can't seem to stifle HG. She keeps goading me and I let her.

/He is questioning your worth as a parent! Are you really going to let that go?!/

"I am not telling you how to be a parent!" Angel is actually hunched over at this point, and I think I see his face flashing between his and Angelus. "Now, please, put HG away! I can't hold Angelus back much longer."

/No way! Tell him to let that fucker out!/

I shut my eyes, squeezing as hard as I could, forcing memories of times with Angel; how much I have come to care for him, while shoving a kicking and screaming HG down as far as I can.

I feel my human face return, and I open my eyes to see Angel no longer struggling with holding Angelus in check.

"Come on Helena, sit with me." He gestures towards the bed with a tilt of his head.

I nod. We sit, and after a moment, he says gently, "I'm simply saying as someone who cares deeply for Myka, he probably wouldn't be so happy with you for hurting her."

"Giles understands!" I protest. "He knew about the Powers' contract with me. He knew it would be easier for Myka if I didn't draw out a long goodbye, and to provide less temptation for me."

"What about after you had passed the soul test? No longer a puppet of the Powers; no conditions attached to having your soul." Angel takes my hand, and squeezes. "You could have tried, Helena."

"I...I was afraid," I admit softly. Angel looks at me with the compassion I'm sure I don't deserve.

"Afraid she would say no?"

"Yes. Well, partly. I would be asking her forgiveness for so many things. If by some miracle she accepted my explanations for why I left and continued coming back to see Giles without her knowledge, how will she accept my past? Did you tell Buffy everything Angelus did?"

"Helena, as far as what I told Buffy, let's just say she knew quite a bit; more than she should have, considering she met and knew Angelus quite well during those months this body had no soul." He blows out an unneeded breath, and I lay a hand on his arm.

"Angel..."

He shakes his head, and smiles ruefully. "You know Angelus. Some days I wonder how much I can make up for the cruelty; the brutality, death, and destruction."

I slip my slighter arm around his bulkier body and squeeze, hoping it offers some measure of comfort. It seems to work as the tension on his face lessens.

I withdraw and say, "We are a pair, are we not? Each day and night we struggle with the trials and tribulations of our past, whether it be from the sins committed by HG and Angelus, or from our personal pasts knowing we chose to be Turned, and therefore with souls carrying the heavy responsibility for redeeming the past 80 to 90 years.

"I believe Cordelia is right in her assessment of us." I chuckle. "Today, she declared you didn't pay her enough money to deal with our, and I quote, 'I have a soul, and therefore I will brood attitudes'."

"You can always count on Cordelia to be blunt." Angel laughs and shakes his head. "This conversation wound up to be a lot longer than I intended, but no less wanted, Helena."

I smile. "I agree." I feel a swell of affection for Angel, and I realize what folly it will be not to try, to deny not only me, but also selfishly deny Myka this opportunity for happiness.

My cockiness and confidence emerge as I remember our time together, and I just know Myka cares for me as I do for her. I straighten, ready to face my fears.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make to Giles, and plan a trip to the Hellmouth to see the only one who can remind me of what it is to be truly alive, and to love and to be loved in return."


	6. Odes 1:11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena struggles with her past to make way for the future, and to find the courage to seize the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helena's memory is separated by a ~~~~~~~~~~  
> Scenes are separated by: **********  
> Helena's demon (HG) internal dialogue is separated by: /
> 
> Bering and Wells are finally reunited! It's a rather rough meeting but that's how they roll anyways. It's their thing.
> 
> The scene with Helena fighting Sam in Giles' courtyard was inspired by the scene between Angel and Riley in the BtVS season four episode "The Yoko Factor". I knew I would be using this scene at some point ever since I started conceiving this particular series. It just felt so right for their meeting. I know I have been bashing Sam (I really struggled with liking him on Warehouse 13 because the first time we are introduced to the character, he calls Myka "Bunny". That struck me as really sounding paternalistic. I think of someone calling their daughter that), but that's the way it goes. Next chapter is his last one. There are also a few pieces of dialogue I took from "The Yoko Factor" that I liked as well.

.....

You should not ask, it is unholy to know, for me or for you  
what end the gods will have given, O Leuconoe, nor Babylonian  
calculations attempt. Much better it is whatever will be to endure,  
whether more winters Jupiter has allotted or the last,  
which now weakens against opposing rocks the sea  
Tyrrhenian: be wise, strain your wines, and because of brief life  
cut short long-term hopes. While we are speaking, envious will have fled  
a lifetime: seize the day, as little as possible trusting the future. -Odes 1:11 Horace

\----

 

The house across the street, full of warmth, love, and light, reminds me of why I detest spending any amount of time in a suburb.

Family members visible through the sheer curtains chat and laugh over the events of the day. There is a child's bat and ball on the grass, and suddenly a young boy runs out to collect them, scampering back inside at his mother's call.

It is all too much, and I close my eyes at what was denied to me so long ago.

I startle at the sound of a group of teenagers walking by my car, most likely towards The Bronze, full of infectious enthusiasm. 

I feel instant fear, and have to fight myself from running after them to insist they return to their homes, as though an adolescent would actually pay mind to an adult. 

I know despite the danger, they can't be coddled forever, even in a town such as this. 

I've never understood why people insist on staying here, literally on the top of hell. How many horrendous events must occur before their human minds can cease to dismiss the sheer number of deaths and sightings of demons? 

And now with the threat of an immortal, impenetrable vampire able to exist in the sunlight, I just want to run to every home, and scream at them to grab their children and leave this god forsaken place.

Giles has requested my help to work in tandem to stop Spike from finding the gem to grant him these powers. 

There is little on record of my association with Spike. The amount of time I spent with him, and our vampire family was so spotty. I would be around for awhile, leave for a bit, come back, and eventually left for good. I did see Spike randomly throughout the years, but there seems little record of that either. 

While I suspect Giles knew more than he let on, I know Myka was only aware of the history on record concerning Spike, and the tidbits I shared. 

How will she feel when she learns about my relationship with him, and by proxy, the cruelty I inflicted upon others in my past? Even if it was by my demon at the time, HG is still a part of me.

My mind buzzes with these heavy thoughts when my demon decides she's had enough.

/I'm fucking tired of sitting here. Get your bum out of this car, and go inside./ I sense a wicked, smug smile from HG. /Unless you're chicken./

"I am not chicken!" I say loudly, and am suddenly glad no one is around to see me yelling in an empty car making me appear mad.

I lay my head back against the headrest and sigh, closing my eyes. 

~~~~~~~

"Mmm, this feels so nice, Helena."

I say nothing.

The warmth of Myka feels so heavenly (such a strange word for a vampire to use, I know, but appropriate nonetheless), I loathe asking her to move from our cocoon.

I don't need to look outside my apartments to know it's after dark. My internal clock tells me so, and after living as a creature of the night for nearly 100 years, I am certain of the validity of the feeling. 

I gently squeeze Myka against my chest, and murmur into her chestnut curls, "It is time for us to leave. We must be at the docks in a few hours." 

"I guess," she sighs, and instead snuggles deeper into my side.

I stop rubbing her back, and give her a little push. "Come on, Myka. It's time."

She grumbles something unintelligible, and I smile fondly as she rolls over, her hair falling into her face as she bends over the bed, no doubt in search of her sneakers. 

I rise from the bed, easily slip on my boots, and upon leaving the bedroom, I walk over to the fridge for one last blood packet before we leave. 

Once I open the refrigerator, I realize this is the last one. How did I manage to be so forgetful?

Tonight's recovery of boxes of stolen artifacts on the docks will no doubt end in a violent confrontation with others who arrived with the same purpose, for different reasons: to take and use the artifacts to bring about an apocalypse.

The excitement of the fight, the excitement of being near Myka, the bloodlust will make itself known. 

What if I can't keep ahold on it?

Curbing my natural instincts is not easy. I am fortunate; Los Angeles has many viable resources if I or Angel deplete our supply of blood. 

But Sunnydale is an entirely different animal. 

An isolated town such as Sunnydale offers few alternatives in a situation such as this, and I worry about making the trip to Los Angeles before I lose control.

I feel the nearness of Myka hovering. "I think the butcher is on vacation..."

There is a tone in her voice I'm afraid of. I know what she's about to say, and so does my demon who flashes across my face before I can stop her.

Gripping the refrigerator door, I respond, "Giles has some extra packets, does he not?"

There is silence, and I suspect disappointment which is confirmed in her tone as she concedes,"Yeah..." 

If I turn around, I know she will be biting her lip, contemplating what to say next. I should close the refrigerator door, and end this conversation, but I can't seem to make myself move.

I hear a soft sigh, followed by slight trepidation in her voice. "Well...I was thinking...umm...maybe..."

/Turn the hell around, suck her dry, and fuck her brains out! You know she wants it!/

My eyes squeeze close. I am so tempted. 

The longer I stay here, near her, the worse it gets. The harder it is to abstain from needing and wanting more blood, not to mention, the craving for sex from her. 

From feeling the need to mate with her.

It's this last thought that sobers me, and my eyes fly open.

I can't stay here, and I know it.

I shut the fridge door hard, brush past her, hoping she doesn't see HG on my face. I throw the blood into my microwave, and heat the packet up. 

As it warms, I clutch the counter, and grind out through my teeth. "Go to the library. I'll meet you there shortly."

"But-"

"Just go, Myka!" I practically scream at her. 

There's silence, and finally I sense her leave. There is the sound of swift footsteps and the slam of the door on the way out.

What have I done? 

The moment every artifact is retrieved, and Macpherson is stopped, I must leave and don't look back. 

~~~~~~~

The beep of the cell phone startles me, and the haze of memory clears.

I fumble with the device, and attempt to relax before answering. Upon inspection, it's only Cordelia, and I roll my eyes, and press 'talk'.

"What do you want, Cordelia?" 

"You're sitting in that car, aren't you?" I don't answer, obviously giving her confirmation. "I knew it! I knew you would be idiotic enough to sit there, because you're avoiding Myka. Just wasting away, waiting for the sun to come up, with you bursting into flames-"

"Cordelia!"

"-your ashes all over my new car seat," She continues without missing a beat. "I just bought that car a month ago. The only reason I'm letting you drive it, is because Angel gave me a four day weekend with pay.

"Look, this is not just about you or even my car...well, my car IS high on the list of importance but still...do you actually think any of us here are able to deal with a brooding Angel on our own? Are you that selfish?"

"Your concern over my wellbeing is astonishing," I say dryly. "As for Angel, he is just fine without me." 

"First off, Angel is not just FINE without you. You should be flattered you're the only one who can handle Angel and his moods. That is a huge compliment, I might add.

"Second, of course, we care about your wellbeing. I mean, we all like you, and Wesley has like a total crush on you. I think he gets turned on when you guys start discussing anything intellectual.

"And not to inflate your ego or anything, but you have invented some killer stuff. I especially love that charger you invented so I can use my phone (that never loses battery power or reception) anywhere. Even in concrete, like nuclear bunkers, 100 feet below the ground."

"Thank you for your acknowledgements of my usefulness outside of dealing with Angel, albeit when my intellect helps you personally," I say wryly.

"No problemo." Only Cordelia could take my statement as a compliment. "Look, I obviously didn't see you guys together to judge, but I know Myka, and I've seen enough of YOU to get an idea. You guys both love books, killing demons," Cordelia now sounds like she's counting the examples off on her fingers, "sword fighting, dead languages, dead authors, dead painters-"

"Cordelia, please stop!" 

Naturally she ignores my plea. "Myka is all into bad girls (see exhibit a: psycho slayer), so she's totally into you by default, and I've never seen anybody brood like you over her...Well, except Angel when he gets all broody about his own Slayer/Vampire epic romance saga. Which was like twenty years ago, I might add. He should totally be over that already."

/Are you just going to let her talk to you like this? Hang up, I'm tired of hearing this...Although, I do enjoy hearing how bad we are.../

I roll my eyes at both Cordelia and my demon, deciding just to let Cordelia go until she runs out of steam. She is the most blunt human being I have ever met, and never has a problem speaking her mind. Which, in some ways, I can appreciate, after the platitudes and false sympathy I've received over the years, especially when I was alive myself. Her lack of filter however, is something left to be desired some days.

"My point IS, just go in there, and take her anger like, well, not like a man obviously, but like the 100 year old vampire you are. Because hello! Helena, you should be sorry for being the jerk like you totally were. And before you open your mouth, you may recall I know all about the whole PtB thing. Get on your knees, and beg forgiveness. Angel's right; we can work something out."

"How do you know Angel said that?" I ask, suspicious.

I hear the smugness in her reply. "Because I'm smart, that's why. Now go!" 

Cordelia abruptly hangs up, and I shake my head. 

She may be caustic, but she can also be right. 

I open the car door, and step into the night, which welcomes me, and always will.

**********

My footsteps sound extra loud to me, and I half expect Myka to swing Giles's front door open any moment.

I gently lay Myka's gift on the patio table, and suddenly wonder if I've over stepped my bounds.

Do I have the right? After all, this gift is personal, and she has another lover. 

I don't want to give voice to my real reason.

/Wooing her. That's exactly what you are doing. Like wanting to mate her. Ha! I'm right, and you didn't even admit it to Angelus. This is no act of contrition, Helena, and you know it, so stop deluding yourself./

"Oh, bugger off," I mumble, not at all pleased HG is actually right for a change.

I'm half tempted to withdraw my cigarette case from inside my jacket pocket, and smoke a fag. I doubt Myka will be pleased if she smells the odor, which is the only thing holding me back. I rarely smoke these days, and nowadays it tends to happen more from nerves. 

In the past, I've pondered if the cigarette case has become a habit, comfort, or need. And I wonder how much it is connected to my human life (a time when smoking was in fashion), and time as a vampire. HG certainly enjoyed the habit. 

From wherever it stems, I have ceased to examine my desire, but it is a desire I have no wish for Myka to discover.

I glance at Giles' curtains, but see no signs of Giles or Myka. I sense her though, and suspect she senses me as well. Even if I delay announcing myself, it's only a matter of time before she comes out here.

I have always liked the fountain here in Giles' courtyard. It's so nice and tranquil. It's a good place to think, which I've taken advantage of in the middle of the night with Giles fast asleep. 

I walk lightly over to the fountain and lean down, running my hands through the water. I see nothing but ripples, a reminder of who and what I am, and it brings pause. It may be dark, but there is enough light that if I were human, I would most likely see myself, and I ask myself again if I'm making the right decision by coming here.

The wind picks up, and I sniff the air, smelling the scent of the rain that is sure to come in the middle of the night. 

It's too bad I was unable to arrive earlier. How long will it take us to search for Spike?

/Do not stake him. And do not let the Slayer do it, either!/

'Is that affection I hear in your voice?' I ask, slightly amused, despite the severity of the situation.

/He simply was a good intelligent companion in the beginning. I had no intellectual outlet from our Sire, Angelus, or Dru, as you well know. I helped expand his horizons after I finally rid him of William's weak soul./

Suddenly, HG's 'affection' is no longer a source of amusement for me, and I straighten, the water losing any sense of calming.

HG has no need to show me any details of the day I sired William. He may have begged me to do it, but I will never stop feeling the guilt and the shame. 

'I do not wish to discuss this anymore. Go back down where you belong.' I internally ground out, angrily.

/Well, you just better get used to it, HELENA, because you know you're telling the Watcher and the Slayer about everything we did that night...and all the nights after./

"Shut up! I did nothing! That was you! All you!" I whisper shout, stepping as far as I can from Giles' door, while still remaining in the courtyard. 

/In case you forgot (which I know you did NOT, as we have this same conversation all the sodding time), YOU were the one who volunteered for becoming a vampire. And lucky you (and unlucky me) were gifted with the most incredible beautiful demon Hell ever produced./

I run a hand through my hair when I hear steps coming down the stairs, and whirl around to see a young man, and I have a good idea who he is.

"Who are you?" He asks, and I see the suspicion, as his eyes trail up and down my body.

I draw myself up, and am haughty. "I do not believe it is any of your business who I may or may not be."

"Oh, really," he sneers, and withdraws a stake from his pocket. By human standards, he is considered an adult, but I see him as a mere child. 

This boy comes closer, and that's when I smell Myka on his jacket.

Immediately, I change.

"Just as I thought!" The boy comes at me, but I grab his stake arm, twist it around, and hold it against his back. 

This close, and Myka's scent is even stronger. 

/What the fuck? This boy has your bloody girlfriend's scent all over him. I say we drain him, then you're free to do what you want with the Slayer./ My demon throws up images of blood and sex with Myka, and I growl. 

But then I shake my head, revert to my human face, and push him off. 

"Look, I am simply here to see Myka and Giles. They already knew I was coming." And then I amend, "Well, Giles does anyways."

"Coming from where?"

"As I've stated before, this is none of your concern. They are expecting me, now get out of my way."

He blocks me, and says slowly, "Wait a minute....I know who you are. You're Helena."

How much has Myka told him, I wonder. I wonder why she spoke of me at all. The surprise must show on my face because he nods.

"Yeah, you are. I heard all about how you hurt her. Left without saying goodbye. And now you think you can just waltz right in, and think she'll drop everything and just come back to you, like nothing ever happened?"

Is this what I'm doing? 

And then I suddenly understand his reaction. It is really about his fears, doubts, insecurities over his relationship with Myka. 

Like he never mattered, and now I was coming to take it all away. 

And Myka would ultimately choose me over him.

/And the little bastard would be right. He'd lose every fucking time./

I ignore HG, and pointedly say, "You mean, like YOU never happened, yes?" He just stands there, checks red and puffing, and I know my arrow hit its mark.

"MY relationship with Myka is none of your BUSINESS, but if you think I'm going to let you pass me, you got another thing coming."

/Can we please hit him now?/

"Yes," I say under my breath to my demon, and morph back into game face.

"You think you can stop me, boy?" 

"I surely do." This time, his moves are more sure and better placed. He lands a solid punch, and I stagger. He grins, and then I can't help myself.

I right myself, and let HG loose.

As one, HG and I see and smell fear replace earlier bravado as he watches us run our tongue along our fangs. The temptation to drink this boy has now become a full blown conclusion.

In a rapid flurry of kicks and punches, we knock him across the way, battered and bruised against the wall. We feel the heady rush of a fight. We want to kill this boy who touched Myka. 

We raise him by his jacket against the wall effortlessly. Suddenly we are jerked back, thrown to the other side of the courtyard. 

I shake my head and simultaneously shake HG away. 

I stand up, unsteady, and see the one I would do anything for; staring at me, incredulous, and looking beautiful as always. 

"Hello, my darling." 

Her stake is poised, ready to thrust into my chest, turning me to dust.

"Meeting at stakepoint again, I see," I try to be flippant, but my shaky tone reveals my nerves, and I sense the irritation of HG at my behavior. 

After a moment, Myka relaxes her stance, and I make the mistake of thinking she is receptive to my arrival.

I smile and say, "I have missed you so very much, love."

The last thing I see is a fist flying directly into my face.


	7. "Lord, help my poor soul"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka questions the existence and meaning of souls among her lovers, and even herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Sam's last hurrah. I know I've been bashing him, and fair warning if you really like him, I am bashing him here as well. It helped give Myka the push she needed. 
> 
> Myka is very confused by everything, and doesn't know how to react. I don't want you to think Myka is going to automatically forgive Helena, and Giles, for that matter. Helena has a lot of groveling and explaining to do. However, it's hard for Myka to resist Helena's charm and lure. But she knows she has to hang tough, and next chapter, Myka's anger and upset will be making more of an appearance. So, yeah, Helena is not getting off Scot-free.
> 
> Also, I paraphrased a bit of dialogue of Riley Finn's in Season Four episode "The Yoko Factor".

"The girl need some monster in her man. And that's not in your nature. No matter how low you try to go"-Spike, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 5 episode, 'Into the Woods'. (Side note: instead of "her man" mentally use "her lover" instead. It's more appropriate.) 

"Lord, help my poor soul."-Edgar Allan Poe

**********

"Hello, my darling."

I can't believe who's in front of me.

"Meeting at stakepoint again, I see," Helena's voice shakes and her smile is weak, tentative, cautious. She's more nervous than I've ever seen her. 

Helena has always muddled my duty, while muddling my emotions at the same time.

I curtail my natural instinct, relax my grip on my stake, and step back. 

How...why...is she here?

Helena gingerly comes forward and speaks the words I so longed to hear, but the moment they leave her lips, they're unwelcome.

"I've missed you so very much, love."

Next thing I know, she's a crumpled heap against the wall of foliage and I stare at my closed fist.

"Myka...Myka."

"What?" My voice sounds disembodied, and I hear someone walking up to me from behind and know it's Giles by the scent of his Old Spice cologne. 

He lays a hand on my shoulder, gives it a squeeze and murmurs, "Why don't you go talk to Sam, and I'll deal with Helena." 

I shrug off his hand, sliding my stake into my pocket. "Fine," I reply, and dully walk over to the guy I forgot is technically my boyfriend.

Sam is still upright, but slouched against the wall, his arm wrapped around his side, and I'm fairly certain he has a broken rib.

Broken pieces of pottery, scattered dirt and plant foliage lay nearby, and as I get up close, Sam looks up. I blanche at his badly bruised face, which include one closed eye, puffy and already turning black and blue. Sam's torn lip is no doubt courtesy of Helena's ring and the traces of blood surrounding his nostrils. His jeans and light jacket are scuffed.

I know how powerful she is. I also know it's a wonder he's still alive. If I hadn't come when I had, she would have broken his neck and sucked him dry. The hand imprint on his neck is testament to this.

They don't even know each other. As for Sam, he shouldn't even be here. 

Why would Helena try to kill Sam? She HAS a SOUL...or at least, she did...

Oh god!

I spin away from Sam and race back over to a still comatose Helena. 

Giles is missing. Where the hell is he? 

And then he calmly comes out his door and walks over to Helena. Giles kneels down, and I realize he is about to use smelling salts on Helena.

"Giles! Wait!"

"What?" He stands up. "What's wrong, Myka?" Giles glances at Sam and frowns like a disapproving father. "I thought you were going to check on Sam."

"I did go over. Giles, did you see how badly he's hurt? What the hell happened? When I came out here, I had to pull her off!" I yell, breathing heavily. "Helena was ready to kill him, Giles. I don't think she has her soul anymore." 

As the words tumble out, I'm startled at the anguish I hear in my voice. God, why is she coming back to me only to be taken away again? 

Giles sighs, removes his glasses, and runs his hand up and down his face. What is he not telling me? I could see he was stalling the moment I arrived earlier. Now he just seems tired...resigned...and that's when it hits me.

"Seriously, Giles? You knew she was coming here, didn't you?" I accuse, hands on my hips. I don't give him a chance to answer and continue, "You knew, and you didn't tell me. You were in contact with her the entire time, weren't you! I mean...what, did she come over for afternoon tea too?" I hiss, much too loud. 

"MYKA!" Giles interrupts, whisper shouting. "There are circumstances you are unaware of but please understand, it was not my choice to reveal my contact with Helena. After everything in the past...I don't blame you for despising me. I know you have a lot of questions...there are things I don't understand either, believe it or not." Giles slides his glasses back on, his face inscrutable as he glances at Helena. "The only one who has the answers is laying on the ground. And whether she chooses to tell us the answers or not is entirely up to her." 

He returns his gaze to me and states, "As of this moment, I CAN tell you she is not soulless. Did you stop to think there might be another reason?" 

"Giles, I just have a real difficult time considering the damage done to Sam. The only time I saw her cause this kind of damage on someone was killing other vampires and demons. Even with Macpherson's human lackeys she held herself back. I can't think of anything else that would trigger this kind of reaction from her, other than a lack of soul." 

"Myka, you know I wouldn't defend her unless I was absolutely sure. Have you talked to Sam about it yet?" He asks me pointedly.

I scowl; frustrated with Giles, frustrated with Helena, and frustrated at the situation. 

And even frustrated with myself. 

I jumped to a conclusion when I didn't have all the facts. 

I should know better. 

I want to attribute my lack of rationality to the chaotic circumstances but deep down, I know that's not the case. 

If she had her soul when this happened, what does this say about her? I thought I knew her. This is something I didn't believe she could be capable of. Does the demon inside influence her more than I think it does? 

And why does Giles insist he's sure Helena has her soul? 

I throw my head back towards the heavens, not sure if I'm seeking comfort or answers from a god of which I doubt exists.

All I see is the night sky partially obscured by passing clouds and I smell rain.

The storm is on its way but it feels like it's already here.

I sigh unhappily, resigned, knowing Giles is right. 

However, my innate stubbornness refuses to leave. As I lower my head to respond to Giles, I cross my arms, petulant.

"Okay, well, I'll go over and talk to Sam and then you and I are going to talk. But I think it's better if you wait for me to be right here when you wake her up," I insist, and Giles gives me a look that says you're acting like a child.

I suddenly hear footsteps and know by the steps it's Steve Jinks. 

"Whoa. Myka, Giles, what's going on? Are you guys okay?" Steve seems torn between heading over to help Sam and coming over to our side.

"We're alright," I say, letting my arms fall loose by my sides. "Sam's just...it's...there was a fight, and...well...it's kind of complicated." 

The response is lame but the truth IS complicated. 

But things with Helena are never easy. 

"Okay," Steve says slowly, his gaze flies from one to the other and finally settles on the figure lying crumpled on the floor. "Is that Helena?" 

Steve then lifts his eyes to stare at me, and I squirm uncomfortably. 

While I genuinely like Steve, he can be difficult to be around, and I wonder how Claudia does it some days. 

Steve sees the truth; in what you say, and what you do. It can be unnerving, and you feel as if he is peering into your very soul. 

The Slayer inside me intensely dislikes the scrutiny. My human self isn't thrilled either. 

So I get defensive.

"Yeah, it's Helena. Like I said...things are complicated," I respond, glaring at Giles. "Right, Giles?" 

Before he has a chance to answer, I hear the padding of sneakers followed by, "What the frack?" Before I can stop her, Claudia is bending over Helena, inspecting her and actually poking her as if to see if she's real. "Dude, is that Helena?"

Rolling my eyes, I reach out and yank her off. "Yes, Claud, it's Helena."

"Squeal of delight!" Claudia bounces about, and despite everything, it brings a small smile to my face at her happiness. 

"Hey...how come she's here? And why is she knocked out on the floor?" Claudia pauses, and her eyes widen. "She's not like dead is she? I mean, I know vamps can't actually die since they are already dead, but like 'dead dead'-" 

"Claudia!" Steve interrupts Claudia's rant, "she's not 'dead dead'. She would be dust by now, you know."

"Jinksy, after living here on the Hellmouth for my whole life and being aware of the evil undead for the past three, I already knew that! I just meant, you know...Helena has a soul. She is like a kickass vampire, pretty old, tough....and special...I thought she might like, die a different way. You know, more human...like..."

Her parents. Like her parents. 

That's what Claudia means to say.

'Oh, Claud,' I think to myself. 

Helena isn't just Claudia's hero, and I can't believe I never saw it before. 

Just how self absorbed have I been since Helena? 

"Dude, do you think she still has her soul?"

"Claudia! If you would shut up for a moment," I say not unkindly, "that is one thing we're trying to make sure of."

Giles rolls his eyes in exaggeration and I can see his patience wearing thin.

"If you would be quiet and allow me to revive Helena, we can find out what happened. And Myka, I believe you were ready to talk to Sam."

Without reply, I turn around, and walk over to Sam. He's now sitting on the wooden bench against the wall. 

The attention (and fawning) over Helena, the neglecting of Sam whether intentional or not, brings guilt; he was the one beaten up and nearly sucked dry after all. 

'Geez, Myka,' I internally berate myself as I walk over.

"Come on, Sam. Let's go inside. We can get you cleaned up." I start to help him up but he bats my hands away. 

"I think you have your hands full helping your GIRLFRIEND over there," He spits out.

Wait a minute. Why does it sound like he knows more than what I told him in the past?

"She's not my girlfriend," I reply evenly. 

"That's not what I hear."

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

"Ask her," he mutters. Sam's face is turning redder by the minute, which in turn causes his nose and lip to bleed more as the blood rises to the surface. 

I dig in my pocket for a Kleenex which he refuses, instead wiping the dripping blood on his sleeve.

"Okay, I don't know what that means," I say testily, "and I am asking you."

Instead of answering me, Sam sulks. He grumbles under his breath, and all I hear is a "fuck" and then a "bitch from hell".

I'm so tired of his crap, and right now, I struggle at feeling sympathy.

I suck in a breath to regain control. I know how Sam's mind works, and suddenly his reaction makes sense. 

"This has to do with our conversation earlier, doesn't it? Sam, my decision to take a break from our relationship had nothing to do with Helena."

"Bullshit, Myka," he yells, slurring through his torn lip and blood. "She may not have been around in the actual flesh, but she was still in the middle of us. You were never fully with me, we both know that. When you told me about her, that look on your face...that's the look I wanted you to wear when you looked at ME...but I never saw it."

Even through the bruises, I see the anguish on his face. 

Oh, shit. 

His feelings for me ran deeper than I thought, and obviously far deeper than mine for his.

The patio is silent. I'm suddenly very aware we have an audience and I feel naked, exposed. 

"Myka, why don't you take Sam inside," I hear Giles call, "You know where the first aid kit is kept, and you will have the privacy to talk...if you so wish. We will be fine. I guarantee you; she has her soul."

"No. She doesn't," Sam intones without emotion.

"How do you know?" I ask, thinking that through his anger his perspective is most likely blurred. 

I have no right to question. Am I not doing the same thing? Even if my reasons differ, my emotions impair my reactions to Helena as well.

"She doesn't have her soul. I should know. I fought her. If she really had a soul, she would have left you alone. Not...not disrupt your life like this. Not after she hurt you. No one with a soul would do that."

Sam pauses, and speaks with the air of a martyr, "I would never do something like that."

I can tell he thinks I should fall at his feet at such a declaration. I shake my head in disbelief. I start to respond, and then...

Wait just a freakin' minute. 

Is he so dense he can't even see his own actions are the mirror image of what he accuses Helena of?

"Sam..." I begin, "that's exactly what you were on your way to do, wasn't it?"

He stares at me blankly as he struggles to connect the dots. 

"Is that what you think, Myka? That I have no soul because I came over to talk...even though we agreed to take a time out?"

"First off, I was the only one on board with taking a step back. Everyone in Stevenson Hall can attest to that due to our argument, and you storming off. Second, don't presume to know what I think. I can't help it if you have no clue about the things you say, and their implications." 

I clinch and unclench my fist. I am seething inside. He needs to leave before I'm tempted to add to Helena's damage.

"You need to go to the hospital and we can finish this conversation later." I look back at three people who look anywhere but at me.

"No. I want to finish this now!" 

I turn back to Sam and he rages, "I was never enough for you, was I? Is it because I'm not a vampire? I'm not dark enough for you? After all, don't all girls go for billowing capes, and dark and bad and broody? I can't fight like you, and as you keep reminding me, I sure as hell don't know what it's like being a Slayer." He pauses, and then taunts, "Or is it the girl thing?" 

"Steve," I call over my shoulder without taking my eyes off Sam, "can you please take Sam to the emergency room? Giles, I'll carry Helena into the house and we can proceed from there." 

I now feel distant, stoic. And when I speak to Sam, there is the finality I've been searching for, but it's cold. Right now, I find it difficult to recall anything positive from our relationship and wonder how much I will actual mourn in the end, if I will at all. 

"Congratulations, Sam, you just proved you have no soul. We're over."

I spin, and walk quickly over to Giles. There is Helena, beautiful and awake, still lying on the ground, casually laying with her hands underneath her head wearing that smirk that does me in nearly every time.

Instead of falling for her charms, I glare. I hear Steve in the background struggling with Sam when I hear the welcome voice of my best friend. 

"What the- Myka! What's going on? Are there vampires? Do you have stakes? Who is that on the ground? Is that HELENA?"

"Hello, Peter." Helena has the cheek to wave at Pete who just stares dumbfounded at her, at me, at Sam, and back at me. 

"Pete, can you help Steve take Sam to the hospital? I'll explain everything later."

"Um, yeah. No problem. Are you sure you're okay, Mykes?"

I take a deep breath. "Honestly? I'm as far from okay as I can be right now." I see the concern on his face and when he opens his mouth to speak, I wave him off. "It's fine, Pete. There are a lot of things going on here that need to be explained...and to process."

"Hey, Pete," Steve hails, "just help me get Sam into the car and I can take it from there. Stay here. I have the feeling you'll be needed."

This time I'm grateful for Steve's intuitiveness. I suddenly realize how much I need the steadiness of my best friend.

Pete seems mollified by Steve's offer, but Pete being Pete, still checks in one more time with me.

"Yeah, okay. If you're sure, Myka." I nod, and he adds, "I'll be back in a few."

I hear the nervous shuffling of feet behind me and suddenly realize a young Claudia Donovan, whom I in some ways consider to be like a little sister, was a witness to this very awkward, very personal break up. 

I turn red. 

Helena simply holds her hand out, expecting me to lift her up. When I don't respond, she raises an eyebrow and wiggles her fingers. 

I sigh, and take her hand for the first time in months. It's as smooth as I remember, with the power apparent in the grip and it's easy to lift her, as it always was. 

Her cockiness has returned which leads me to wonder how much she heard. Enough to cause a smirk apparently, which widens when she notices the affect she has on me. My breathing is shallow and I gulp, feeling flushed, and clear my throat.

"How long have you been awake?" I ask.

"Long enough," Helena teases, stepping into my personal space.

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

"It means, you will be more receptive to what I have to say than I originally thought." 

"Receptive to what?" Feeling irritated at her presumption, I add, "I mean, I don't even know where you've been. Why are you even back, and why were you two seconds from drinking Sam dry?!"

Her cockiness fades. "There was...well...we had a disagreement, you might say."

"A disagreement that led to you almost killing him?!" I scoff.

"No...I mean...yes, obviously it was more than a disagreement." Helena steps back and actually looks shame faced. "I suppose things got a little out of control."

"Ya think?" I snark.

"Fine." Helena throws her arms into the air in surrender. "Yes, A LOT out of control." She shrugs. "He is an annoyance. You were right to kick the insolent pup to the curb. He was not worthy of you."

"And you think you are? Is that it?"

"I said no such thing. Stop putting words in my mouth."

Even if I didn't have Steve's ability to detect lies, I can tell Helena is lying.

A feeling of joy at her "admittance" shoots through me before I can stop it, and it pisses me off. 

There are so many things she has to answer for, so I step back. 

If she wants my forgiveness and my love, it will need to be earned.

I hear a throat clear, forgetting Giles is even here. When I glance at him, he's cleaning his glasses with his handkerchief. 

Rubbing them as if his life depended upon it.

Great. Just what I need; an embarrassed Watcher.

I roll my eyes at his action and Claudia laughs.

"Geez, Giles. What are you going to do when you actually catch Myka and Helena kissing or making out or-"

I quickly cover Claudia's mouth and say a little too loud, "Okay! Enough of that!"

As soon as I take my hand away, Claudia rushes to Helena, who gives an "oomph." 

She hugs Helena fiercely, and mumbles so low into Helena's shoulder I don't catch it. It's obvious Helena does, however. She smiles, holds Claudia, and tenderly strokes her hair. 

"I think it would be best if we all went into the house and discussed things." Giles slides his glasses on and sighs.

"Yes! Let's do that...let's just move inside." I rub the back of my neck, Claudia's previous words leave me feeling like the awkward teenager in front of her crush.

Helena smirks at me, saluting. "Aye, aye, Captain." She turns and saunters towards the house, pausing to pick up a package on a patio table along the way.

I'm curious as to the contents, but when I see her walk right through the entrance I bite my lip, not particularly happy about it.

"I'm so glad she's back." Claudia grins and takes off, nearly skipping to the doorway.

I turn to Giles, raising an eyebrow. "Does she have a standing invitation?" 

"She wouldn't be able to enter my house, Myka, if I didn't trust her. You should know that by now." 

I'm not sure what I know anymore as I hear Claudia's excitement inside the house. 

And despite everything, I can't help feeling pleased she's finally returned. 

To me.


	8. Expect the Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the scoobies discuss the Gem of Amara and Spike's involvement, Helena battles her demon to find the courage to explain where and why she disappeared from Myka's life without a trace. 
> 
> But when a blast from the past appears, she realizes she really should have listened to her old friend Oscar, and "expect the unexpected".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Sam is gone for good! Hurray!  
> -A refresher for those who forgot, in the Warehouse 13 episode "3...2...1" Woolly mentions Helena has seduced every man in London, but Helena corrects him, saying there was one man she did not: Oscar Wilde, "but not for lack of trying". (Side note: In case you were unaware, Oscar Wilde was gay.) So, she obviously did know Oscar Wilde and was probably friends with him. So, I'm going with canon on that one.  
> -I believe I mentioned this before, but the scoobies are Myka, Pete, Claudia, and Giles; just like how in BtVS, the scoobies are Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Giles. It's the nickname they give themselves in season one of BtVS (by Willow, I think).
> 
> Helena's memory is separated by the squiggle line: ~~~~~~~~~
> 
> A little scene separation is by asterisks: **********
> 
> Helena's demon HG's speech is separated by slashes: /

"To expect the unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect."-Oscar Wilde 

~~~~~~~~~~

"Why don't you come back?"

"You know why," I return.

"Balderdash. Helena, you are running scared, and you know it."

I take a sip of Darjeeling tea, and eye Giles over the teacup. It's about an hour after sundown, but he treats it like tea time whenever I come by. 

His table has the basic accruements set up on his small dining room table he only brings out on a special occasion. There is an English tea set I have to wonder where he found, scones, cakes, milk, sugar, old fashioned tea cups, and utensils, all resting upon a beautiful table cloth. Such a privileged life I led, the only thing I miss is a faithful servant. 

The sight and participation brings waves of nostalgia. Having a proper tea (despite the late hour) with a fellow countryman, is alternately soothing and painful. But it's been a long while since I've had the experience. 

"She would never accept me back. Myka knows little of my past, and I am afraid she will run screaming if I tell her." 

"Myka is the Slayer, Helena, and quite resilient. She has seen her fair share, and as you know, briefly died in her first year after being activated. The fact she has survived this long is a miracle in itself." Giles smiles softly. "And need I remind you, we are aware of some of your background."

I set my tea cup down upon its saucer a little too hard, and it clatters loudly. Rising from the chair, I slide my hand through my long locks, agitated.

"The Council only knows a small part of what HG did until my soul was returned." I stare hard at the Watcher. "There was a reason HG was known as the The Black Panther of Death. It really should have been The Black Panther of Torture and Death." 

/Hmmm..I like that!/ 

HG's glee irritates me, and I internally glare at her. 'You would, you bloody arse.'

Giles sighs, deep and drawn out. "You have your soul now. Permanently. And from what I know, you are a good person."

"You do not understand; no matter how long I exist, I can never atone for the atrocities I committed." 

"That was your demon, Helena."

"Giles, stop. You don't know me. You don't know Helena Wells. There are things I did as a human I am not proud of." I bow my head in remorse. "Even my cherished Woolly bore the brunt of my insanity. I was not worthy of his devotion."

When I bring my head up, I can see he wants to ask a personal question that I'm not sure I will want to answer, so I make an excuse and retrieve my waistcoat.

"I really should return to Los Angeles with the artifacts." Then I stare directly into his eyes. "Thank you for the tea, Rupert." This is the first time I have called him by his Christian name, and I hope he understands the underlying meaning. He doesn't react, instead giving a slight nod of acknowledgement towards me. 

"I'm happy to do so. It always gives me great pleasure to have a proper tea with a fellow countryman as well."

"Ah, yes, these American rabble. Trying at times, are they not?" I seize the opportunity to lighten the conversation before I leave.

Giles smiles and plays along. "They often are heathens. Although, surprisingly they do have their moments of civility."

"Especially those who are so valiant as they save the world from itself." I cannot help but quietly add.

"Yes," His tone is now serious. "And she does so every night." 

I nod, and say goodnight. 

As I walk away from the warmth and light of his apartment, I disappear into the dark, like the creature of the night I am, certain Myka deserves better than a monster.

~~~~~~~~~~

"What the holy heck, bat woman. What's in here?"

As I shrug off the memory of the last time I was here, Claudia shakes my big sack, and struggles to place the package on Giles' desk. The girl knocks several things over in the process, including the Orb of Thesulah, prompting me to once again, wonder at the wisdom of Giles keeping this on public display.

"It's totally heavy, dude." Claudia attempts to open the package, and I reach over and stop her.

"Claudia, I would appreciate you leaving the package alone for the moment. And please, can you refrain from using "dude" when addressing me?"

Claudia presents me with biggest grin I can ever remember seeing on her face, and I wonder why my words put it there.

"What?" How snooty I sound.

"You sound like Giles. I know you're both like ancient, but it's almost the year 2000, Helena!"

"That does not mean manners have gone out of style, young lady."

"Okay, MOM," she teases, but the words sober my mood, and I frown. Claudia notices the change and begins to apologize, "Oh, hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...uh...you know..." I see a mix of rejection, hurt, and embarrassment on the young girl's face before she stares down at the floor and stuffs her hands into her pants pockets. 

I shake off my melancholy, but before I can do or say anything to Claudia, Myka enters, followed by Giles. Her receptive mood from outside is disappearing quickly. She eyes me warily, and I can tell Myka's defenses are up as she says nothing. She walks over to the breakfast bar and stands awkwardly, playing with her blue hair band wrapped around her wrist. 

I stare at Myka for a moment, and she raises her eyes to stare back. And now I see anger and hurt in her green eyes before a curtain is drawn, and they cloud over into impassivity.

"Why don't we all move over to the couch so we can discuss the problems at hand," Giles offers.

"'Problems at hand'? You mean like the lying?" Myka pipes up. "Keeping secrets knowing the effect it has on others?" She ends in scathing sarcasm, and Giles flinches.

Fortunately, we are granted a respite by the arrival of Pete. He closes the door, and hanging up his jacket, he glances at Myka. "We got Sam into the car okay, Mykes. Steve's driving him over to the hospital. I'm sure he'll be okay." His tone is soothing. I'm struck by how much he cares for Myka, and I am reminded of my Woolly. 

Myka gives a terse, short nod, and Pete frowns at the silent room. "Okay, I don't even need my vibes right now to tell this place is at defcon 1." 

"Pete, please sit down. EVERYONE please sit down." I can hear the irritation in Giles's voice, and his struggle with losing control of the situation. I am well aware he only meant to discuss Spike and the gem with Myka and I, but truly, we were both fools to believe this information would not go beyond Myka. She may be private, and I know Myka always believes she is alone, but sometimes, I wonder if she knows how very lucky she is to have such a loyal, caring group of friends. They seem to stick to her like glue, and they would do anything for her. 

The way Giles points to his furniture would be comical if not for the situation at hand, and everyone obeys in quiet complacency, except for Myka. She follows his instructions, but sulks as she walks over, and half sits, half stands on the arm of the couch.

Sitting cross legged on the floor, Claudia is still forlorn, which again, makes me wonder what on earth I did or say to make her suddenly upset. I sit on the couch, letting Pete be next to Myka as I know I will be very unwelcome at the moment. 

Giles opens his mouth to speak when I shush him. I feel the need to explain myself; to explain why I am here, and why I've been absent, hurting Myka so greatly. My hand flies to my locket of Christina unconsciously and I squeeze it hard for bravery. Giles's eyes flicker to my grasp on the locket and I see his worry and puzzlement. He only knows Christina existed, and that I care very much for her, but he's not aware she is my child. When Giles arches an eyebrow, I can see he's thinking this gesture is an overreaction. This gives me more of a push to tell the truth. 

Sucking in an unneeded breath, I say, "My past is not..." I pause. How do I elaborate considering they may run from the room in terror?

/They should./

'What?' I feel startled at my demon's interruption. I thought she was shoved down far enough so she wouldn't surface, making things more difficult. 

/You heard me. They. Should. Run. In. Terror./ HG throws up grotesque scenes of torture and death in my mind, and I double over, feeling sick.

"Helena?" The voice sounds so much like Woolly, I flinch, and immediately sitting up right again, expecting his blue eyes, instead see brown. 

I am disoriented and don't know if I can do this. The gifts in the bag, seeing Myka again and her loving friends, the reminders of Woolly is all too much. I jump up, ready to bolt out the door. 

"I...I...Giles..." I know my eyes are wild, but a steady barrage of horrific images courtesy of HG are vivid in my mind. I rush past them all to the door, my hand on the doorknob, ready to fall out into the dark night and never look back.

HG keeps rising to the surface, and my visage morphs back and forth. I grab my pounding head, and the sudden thunder outside only makes the emotional and physical pain worse. I can hear commotion behind me, and I think someone is calling my name, but the words are faint, unintelligible. I feel lost, enclosed in my head, and the world is separate, outside my reality.

My head falls against the door, and I nearly collapse at the effort to stop the horrific memories and to shove HG down. 

"Stop it! What the hell are you doing, you bastard?!" I growl.

/Reminding you of who you truly are./

I blindly punch a hole in a wall, half from frustration, and half hoping the pain in my hand will bring me back because I don't know how much longer I can hold on.

Abruptly, I am shoved against the door, hard. Two strong hands hold my hands behind my back, and a female body presses tight against me. I smell strawberries breaking through the horrid parade of memories marching sure and fast in my mind.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" A angry, frustrated voice (Myka's, I dimly realize) is rough in my ear. "Who are you talking to? Am I going to have to hit you again?" 

The horrible memories finally stop, and I feel HG conflicted. As always with Myka, there is the want of blood and sex, but something else is happening. HG retreats, and I pant as I recover from the onslaught.

"You may release me now," I speak in my normal voice, albeit slightly garbled from my head smashed against the door. Myka's grip lessens a little, but I still feel the hesitation.

"Please, Myka, I swear I am fine now." 

Saying nothing, Myka suddenly steps back, releasing her hold. While I am loathe to ever repeat this experience, I immediately miss the feel of her body pressed against mine, and absently wish she would wrap herself around me, holding me close and warm.

Straightening, I spot the punched hole in the wall next to the door, and wince at the sight. As I slowly turn around, I am witness to the entire group standing four or five feet away, wary. The scent of underlying fear and anger is strong.

Clearing my throat, I stammer out an apology to Giles, and further add, "I will gladly pay the money to fix your wall." 

I can't get a full read on Giles' thoughts and emotions, but my instincts tell me he is less than pleased, and wondering if he's made a mistake in trusting me. Giles rubs his temples, and says, "It's all right, Helena, we can deal with it later. Right now, dealing with Spike's return to Sunnydale and his search for the Gem of Amara takes precedence."

"What! Spike is here? When did he show up, and Myka, why didn't you tell me?" Pete yells, sounding aghast.

Myka has relaxed her fighting stance, but I hear the tenseness, the frustration when she barks, "Pete! Geezus, I am not obligated to tell you everything, you know."

Pete's face falls, and I feel like Myka is being unnecessarily harsh towards him. I open my mouth to either defend the boy (which is amazing in itself as relations between us were often contentious), or simply somehow defuse the situation when Giles speaks, following my line of thought.

"Myka," he rebukes quietly.

She says nothing, but her jaw works, and despite the defiant expression, there is a slight blush of embarrassment.

Both Peter and Claudia wear frowns, and Giles sighs in exasperation. "If you all insist on bickering or moping, you can leave. This is serious. If Spike gets his hands on the gem, we have an immortal, impervious vampire on our hands." He sees the puzzlement on Pete's face and he elaborates in simpler terms. "Spike cannot be killed, and can be in the sun without bursting into flames."

Pete's eyes widen in understanding. "Okay. Serious. Got it." His manner changes, and he rubs his hands together in resolve. "So, what do we know? How can we-" Pete waves his hand between Claudia and himself "help?" 

"Right now, you can sit down," Giles responds, glaring at Pete. 

"Sure. No prob, G-man." 

Giles rolls his eyes at the nickname I know he despises, and Pete returns to his place on the couch with Claudia plopping onto the floor next to the television. Myka retreats to the arm of the couch without so much as a glance my way. 

I feel relief at avoiding any discussion of my struggle with HG, but discussing the gem and Spike takes the focus away from me is actually what I need right now. Since HG has retreated, maybe I can now gain enough control to eventually reveal more of my past and the reasons for my choices.

Before I walk over, I hear the steady rain falling outside with bursts of thunder, and oddly enough, the quote on the pocket watch Woolly gave me so long ago comes to mind:

To thine own self be true.

And suddenly the meaning for me is clear, and I draw myself up with fresh determination as I stride to the couch.

 

**********

 

Once we are settled, Giles sits in his armchair with a large tome on his lap. From the condition, it appears to be much older than I. Once again, I wonder how Giles has managed to collect these books, and keep them out of the hands of the Watchers. His collection here, and at the Magic Box, is really quite impressive.

"From what I've been able to discover, the Gem of Amara is like the vampire version of the Holy Grail. A source of some kind of enormous power, and naturally, the information is conveniently vague. There was a great deal of vampiric interest in locating the gem during, oh, the 10th century. Questing vampires combed the earth, but no one found it. It was concluded that it never existed." 

Giles looks at me for verification and I nod. "I heard mention of it in passing. It was especially appealing as a puzzle, a myth. HG had considered searching for it as a worthwhile challenge. She pursued the quest for awhile, but she became distracted...preoccupied... with other matters." I shrug.

I see the spark of curiosity in Pete's eyes over what was the root of the preoccupation to keep HG from pursuing such a challenge, and am eternally grateful to Giles who continues with his explanation. 

"The gem grants the vampire wearer increased abilities and complete invulnerability to all their usual weaknesses. For instance, enhanced regenerative powers permits them to survive staking as the wound closes. Crosses are of no use either. And as I stated earlier, the gem also grants immunity to the harmful effects of sunlight and as such allows the vampire to hunt in broad daylight."

There is silence at the implications. 

"How do you know for sure this gem is even here?" Pete finally asks.

"From my research, the myth refers to the Gem of Amara residing in the "valley of the sun", which when one thinks about it, could easily be interpreted to mean Sunnydale." Giles looks off into the distance and murmurs as if to himself, "I must admit, I don't see how something that valuable, if it were real, could remain hidden on a Hellmouth, with all its demonic activity."

Pete clears her throat and says, "Okay, but how did Spike figure it out?"

"As far as Spike is concerned, I have no way of knowing how he came to the same conclusion, or why he suddenly seems interested in seeking the gem," Giles states.

"Spike may be many things, but he is not stupid," I interject, "Nor would he waste his time on something like this if he didn't think he had a high degree of success."

"You sound like you personally know Spike." Myka looks directly at me, accusingly. 

I brace myself for the fallout and answer, "I do."

Abruptly, the door swings open to the roar of a storm raging. Two figures dash inside and slam the door shut. 

"I'm sorry we're late, Pete. It took forever to get here, the rain is so bad out there," announces a young woman with lovely mocha skin who seems to struggle in order to remove her wet coat. The other figure, with their back to the group, shakes like a wet dog causing a displeased noise to come from Giles. Upon removing their coat, the figure turns around. My eyes widen as I recognize the woman, and hear a voice I haven't heard in over eighty years.

"Well, if it isn't HG! I should of known it was you from my Pete's description." The blonde smirks, appraising me. "I must admit, you still look sexy, despite having your soul. It's easy to see why Myka is so taken with you." She sighs. "I do have good memories of our night in Brussels. It was quite scintillating, and I learned some very interesting sexual techniques. But you must already know that, Myka." She winks at Myka, and hangs up her coat next to mine. "I thought about trying another woman, but I must admit none of them seemed like they could keep up." 

The room is dead silent, and I stare at the blonde woman in shock.

Oscar would laugh if he were here. 

It may have been over a 100 years, but I can hear his voice loud and clear, as if it were yesterday. 

"Helena, do you not know by now to expect the unexpected?"


	9. The Lull in the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let there be an opening in the quiet that lies beneath the chaos, where you find the peace you did not think possible and what shimmers within the storm." -John O'Donohue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -It was a big struggle trying to plug all of the plot holes, so hopefully I got them all.
> 
> -Helena's present to Claudia was so hard to deal with. I went through different types of gift ideas, before I settled 
> 
> -Thanks to Wispr, john6lisa, SwanQueen4tw, and other Bering and Wells fangirls, for help with this chapter!
> 
> -I don't remember Amanda having any other last name than Lattimer, so I just decided to go with Jenkins, which was Anya's last name in BtVS. I admit, Amanda is heavily based on Anya. I find Amanda difficult to write anyways, but I have always considered her to be a rather down to earth, practical person, so I used that and Anya's bluntness and background.
> 
> Helena's Demon's (HG) thoughts are separated by /
> 
> Flashback is separated by ~~~~~~~~~~

With the flip of a switch, the soft glow of my floor lamps casts shadows, and yet these projections are not fearful.

They are not the symbols of death, but of the mundane, and while there was a time I would scoff at the domesticity, I find myself welcoming it with open arms. 

After all, Myka is here with me. Voluntarily, and seemingly without malice. At least, for the moment.

After setting my cooler of fresh blood down, I quickly divest myself of my wet boots, and hang my damp coat on one of the brass pegs located next to the door. The steady rain beats against the window, and it feels wonderful to be inside my dry flat. I am heartened tomorrow's forecast calls for sunny weather.

Myka seems to struggle out of her own wet coat, so I use the opportunity to become gallant. 

"Permit me, my lady." I bow, reach up, and wait for her to yield, which she does with a subtle roll of her eyes, but otherwise does not comment. I am however delighted to see a trace of amusement in her features.

I hang her coat on the peg next to mine, and turn unsurprised to see Myka has lined her own damp boots neatly together. She raises an eyebrow at the sloppy placing of my own boots, and I simply shrug, and smile.

After a slight shake of her head, Myka frowns a bit as she takes in my apartment, which has changed little since she last saw it.

My smallish one bedroom apartment is on the outskirts of Sunnydale, with the apartment complex actually similar to Giles'.  


When I was assigned to Sunnydale for an undetermined amount of time to stop MacPherson's ascension, this apartment was rented for me by the mysterious Mrs. Fredric. I was not privy to any particulars; I simply showed up, with the apartment fully furnished. After my assignment was over, I was forced to leave. 

As luck would have it, the next renter decided to move in September. Giles "inadvertently" let it slip it was available. I had passed the soul test at that point, and was now free of the manipulations of the Powers that Be, so I thought why not? 

I told myself having the apartment was simply a matter of practicality; if I needed a place to stay overnight while collecting any artifacts from Giles, I would have one.

Of course, I was lying to myself; it was a hope that someday I could stop being an emotional coward, and see if I could pursue a relationship with Myka. 

I decided to have a friend sign the lease while I "sublet" from him. It was the only way I could think of to stay away from Myka and Claudia's prying eyes. It seemed to work, as they never even realized I was here. I have only stayed here a few times this past month. Instead, I simply opted to return to Los Angeles upon collecting the latest cache of artifacts from Giles.

I set the keys on the small table on my left, and lock the door. Turning back around, I see Myka's slight frown has disappeared (to my relief). However, it is disconcerting to see wariness and slight anxiety in its place. 

I start to say something, but notice Myka's shiver. I presume it due to the wet and cold, and immediately head to the bathroom, calling, "I have a nice, clean, fluffy towel here you may use." 

Considering my own hair is wet, I grab one for myself as well. 

Upon my return, I am struck by how vulnerable she appears. Her confidence is missing, and there is no Slayer in front of me. Myka is on the cusp of adulthood, and yet, in this moment, she is only a teenage girl. 

The earlier blunt declaration of a dalliance from nearly eighty years ago was certainly unexpected. It seems the vengeance demon Saramander has lost her powers, and is now a human who answers to the name of Amanda Jenkins. 

Amanda's inability to traverse human discourse without offense is noticeable. I recall our night together, and know H.G. appreciated her candor. She understood practicalities. Amanda had no qualms over seeing a vampire feed, the need of a demon requiring human flesh for food, or a demon who enjoyed and incited violence wherever they go, and with whom or whatever crosses their path.

The concept of seeking to alter their behavior was foreign to her; it was simply in their nature, she reasoned. 

I feel for her; living over 1,000 years as a vengeance demon, able to perform the most extravagant, painful wish at the snap of a finger on behalf of any wronged woman, forced against her will to return to the state of a fallible fragile human being. Amanda had been a human before being offered the role of vengeance demon, but it was so long ago, the rules have changed, and I sincerely doubt she was prepared in any sense of the word to navigate this life. 

While I would never verbally express this, I find Peter to have a higher maturity level than his actions sometimes demonstrate. I have seen it with Myka; he sees beyond the surface and uses this understanding in his interactions with his friends. The young man cares deeply, and from the interaction between he and Amanda tonight, I see someone who may be able to provide the caring and understanding Amanda needs. 

I believe Myka on the other hand seems to have limited tolerance for Amanda and her eccentricities. In actuality, this surprises me, considering Myka understands and accepts the shades of gray in this world. 

However, I may have misjudged her in light of the events and high emotions tonight. Once the initial shock wore off, I recognized Myka's reaction as one of jealousy, and irritation. When I did my best to explain the circumstances, she simply closed off.

Acknowledging my age and past is one thing; a full understanding of what that means is another. 

My level of experience is so far beyond Myka's, and while I could never be disappointed in her, I wonder if she believes otherwise. It matters not to me if we ever make love. Simply being with her, holding her would be enough, despite H.G. who no doubt would voice her displeasure in no uncertain terms.

I return from retrieving the fluffy bath towel for Myka, tossing my own onto the couch. Gently wrapping it around her shoulders, I say quietly, "Here you go, my darling. It is a rather cold rain, and a hot shower may help warm you. If you wish, feel free to do so."

Myka loosens the towel enough to wrap it around her upper body. She holds it tight against herself as if in protection, and mutters, "Thank you."

There is something else happening with Myka besides being here, alone, with me, but I cannot tell what it is. I don't know if I feel relief as it appears to have little to do with me (directly at least), or troubled at the cause of her anxiety. My hand twitches with longing to caress her face, to ease her distress. Instead, I offer a fresh shirt and pants, adding, "Once you are finished, call out, and crack open the door so I can hand you the clothes." 

I wish to respect Myka's privacy, which I hope she understands. It appears so as she nods before she ducks her head, and brushes past me on the way to the bathroom. 

I hear the soft click of the bathroom door closing. Upon grabbing my towel, I dry my hair as best I can without the aid of the hair dryer still in the bathroom. Next, I head to my bedroom to rummage through my drawers in order to find something suitable. 

/What are you doing? I don't see why she needs clothes./

H.G. provides her version of "helpful" images of Myka in the nude. I gulp, hoping to stem my arousal, knowing this is neither the time nor the place. 

Instead, I choose to chastise H.G.

'Just stop. I don't wish to have any discussion with you about the need for her to have clothes on or not.'

/Do what you want. It makes no difference to me. It's not my fault you never have the guts to do anything./ The tone is indifference, and H.G. retreats, leaving me surprised she gives no further comment. 

I toss my towel into the hamper, and sigh at knowing I have no way to dry Myka's clothes. The dryer at my apartment complex will not be repaired until next month, as the owner of the building is currently enjoying the warmth and sun of Palm Springs. Instead, I will hang our clothes up to dry in the bathroom when Myka comes out, and hope for the best.

I lay out fresh clean clothing for each of us on my bed; for my own pants, while not overly wet due to my long duster, will still be uncomfortable to lounge in. 

I am very thankful there was a consensus little could be accomplished tonight with the storm raging. Spike is most likely holed up somewhere waiting for it to pass before continuing his search tomorrow. Everyone left Giles' shortly thereafter, agreeing to reconvene tomorrow in order to execute our own plans for a search.

To my surprise, Myka agreed to my offer to talk further at my apartment. I had no wish for an audience for this much needed discussion, so this turn of events was much appreciated.

On the way here in my car, I tentatively gave an abbreviated account as to why I still had the same apartment. There were traces of anger and hurt after this explanation. I truly expected her to become irate, and refuse to come with me. I was cheered when she just emphasized this was one more topic we needed to discuss.

After changing into dry clothes, I return to the living room. Feeling the comfort of wearing dry lounge pants and shirt, I pick up the small cooler holding three packets of cow's blood next to the front door. 

As usual, the thought of blood brings H.G. to the surface and I am unable to stop the flash of my demon on my face.

/I'm hungry. Go warm a packet up. Now./

I roll my eyes. 'You know perfectly well I had planned to have a packet of blood once we finally came to the apartment.'

/Whatever. Just get me some blood, you arse. And since you won't let us have Myka's blood, I suppose cow's blood with have to do./

I feel the usual mix at anger and arousal at H.G.’s mention of Myka's blood, but stifle it, not in the mood to argue or berate her.

I can sense H.G. salivating at the thought of a cup of blood. Upon storing most of the blood in the fridge, I empty one packet into a mug, and heat it up in the microwave. 

I have to admit, the blood hits the spot as it were. Feeding will give me more control over H.G. which is greatly needed for the conversation between Myka and myself. H.G.’s constant interruption will only make things more difficult.

I drink rather quickly but HG seems not to mind, and purrs in contentment. 

'Happy?' I ask dryly.

/What do you think?/

I sigh at the snark, but at least she retreats, and it suddenly occurs to me that while it makes no difference if this apartment is warm or cold, it will make a difference to a very human Myka. 

After turning on the heat, I relax on the living room couch to wait while she showers, and my mind inadvertently returns to earlier this evening.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Claudia, I have something I wish to give you."

I take the opportunity of a brief lull before we are forced back into uncomfortable realities to present the girl with a gift. 

At the moment, Leena and Amanda are drying their clothes in Giles' bathroom down the hall, while Myka is upstairs retrieving his hairdryer from his upstairs bathroom for the two women. 

Meanwhile, Giles and Peter are occupied in the kitchen. I can hear Giles alternately prepare tea and express irritability at the boy rummaging through his cupboards in search of cookies to satisfy his constant need of food.

Claudia scrambles to sit up on the living room carpet as I approach and I sit down beside her.

"You got me two presents?" She sounds so incredulous I almost laugh but keep myself in check when I see how serious this is to her. 

"Yes, darling. It has been on my mind to do so for quite some time. I knew if...well, when...I would see you next, I would very much like to give these to you."

I hand Claudia two boxes, each wrapped in a small black gift box tied with a white bow, and watch with delight as her eyes shine bright and clear with happiness.

"The gift in the long box is connected to the other one," I explain.

"Can I open one?" I am struck by how much she looks like a child upon Christmas morning, and I smile.

I do laugh this time and ruffle her hair. "Of course you may."

"Does it matter which one I open first?" 

"You should open the one in the square box first," I say, then quickly add, "Please be careful in handling this particular one. It is a bit fragile, considering its age."

Claudia grins, and saluting me, she replies, "Aye, aye, captain."

She reaches for the small square box, unties the bow, lifts the lid, and gently unfolds wrapped tissue paper covering her gift. Slowly lifting the case from the gift box, Claudia sets the small wooden case upon the coffee table. It is a small pentagon shaped, and is really quite lovely. 

She opens the latch, carefully lifting the lid, and removes the object and closely examines it.

"This is both a compass and sundial brass pocket watch, used by many seafarers in the late 1800s. There is a lockable compass pointer and internal direction pointer with sprit level."

Claudia's eyes widen. "Whoa!" She opens it. "This is awesome! I can't believe you bought it so long ago. It looks in great shape for something that old." 

"It is made of brass, and besides the care I showed it over the years, I also had the watch and the box restored to their original condition," I explain.

"How come you never used it?"

"It was originally meant to be a gift..." I clear my throat and continue, "You see, this was a present for my daughter Christina. I had intended to give her it on her next birthday. 

"A month or so after Christina turned six, she became obsessed with any sort of time pieces, as well as my own pocket watch. I struggled to keep it from her, because if I let her, she would never have given it back, and would become upset when I would take it back. 

"At Christmas that year, I had decided to have a special pocket watch made for my brother Charles. There was an excellent watchmaker close to our residence. I made the mistake of bringing Christina along. 

"The poor old watchmaker!" I chuckle at the memory. "He was unable to accomplish anything the rest of the day. Fortunately, he was a very patient and kind man, trying his best to answer every one of Christina's questions.

"Two months later, I decided to go back to him to see if I could have something made for me to give Christina for her next birthday. The watchmaker remembered how Christina had been especially taken with this compass sundial watch. He suggested I should buy it."

I suck in a breath I don't even need. "So, I did." 

I pause, and then continue,"I am aware every parent believes their child to be exceptional, extraordinary. I feel you can truly say she was; her intellect, and I must say, even in her grasp of the concept of time itself ironically, considering my own actions following her death. 

"Unfortunately, Christina died before I could give her the watch," I choke out. 

"After her death, I had placed it in the care of...a friend..." I close my eyes and pause as the memory surfaces of retrieving the watch not long after I was Turned. My friend had the misfortune of being home when H.G. had arrived. He was a good man, and his family was then left without a father, all to appease HG's insatiable appetite for blood.

"I kept this because I couldn't bear to give it up...until I met you that is. You are a very special, gifted young woman Claudia Donovan, and I knew giving it to you was the right thing to do. You would understand and appreciate the gift like no one else could..." 

I trail off, nervous I had made the wrong decision. She lifts her head, tears streaking down her face, and suddenly I have an armful, of Claudia Donovan crying into my shoulder. 

I hold her like I used to with Christina, and rub soothing circles on her back until the tears subside. After a moment, Claudia pulls away from my embrace. Her face is red, and she rubs her eyes, but a beautiful smile appears on her face.

"This is the best present I've ever had," Claudia whispers. 

"I'm glad." And smile with relief, and then giving her a nudge, I say, "You still have one more gift to open, you know."

She brightens. "Oh, yeah!" 

After the gift is unwrapped, she opens the long box lid, and holds up the brass pocket watch chain.

"This chain is brand new, and I had it specially made for you." 

I gently take the brass chain from her and reach over to pick up the compass/sundial pocket watch. I affix the chain to the watch, and hand it over to her.

Claudia bites her lip, and I am almost afraid she may start crying again. Instead, she looks at me and says, "I didn't know you had a daughter."

"I..." I struggle to explain without breaking down myself.

Suddenly Claudia reaches out, takes my hand, and briefly squeezes reassuringly.

"It's okay, Helena. You don't have to tell me anymore," she says quietly.

I stare at our clasped hands briefly, and feel the pleasure of the warm hand of this young woman who so reminds me of Christina and I experience a feeling I thought to never feel again; maternal love. 

/Family/

I start, surprised at H.G.’s reaction, the affection in her tone. I did not think she was capable of this kind of emotion towards a human being. 

I'm aware Giles and Peter are returning to the living room, and I am loathe to continue. "It's a rather long story, I'm afraid, which I would be happy to relay at another time. As for now, I would greatly appreciate you not sharing this information with anyone else."

Claudia nods, and giving her hand a quick squeeze, I withdraw my hand. Not wanting the others to hear, I speak quietly, "Once we deal with Spike and the Gem of Amara, I would very much like to return soon and we can go over your gift in greater detail."

"Promise?" She whispers.

"I promise," I whisper, and smile.

"Whoa! What's that, Claude?" 

Peter comes over to investigate, and I quickly rise and step aside only to see Myka standing there. I wonder how long she has been there and what she's heard. There is a softness and sympathy in her eyes, which tells me she was present for at least part of my confession that Christina is my daughter. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Abruptly the memory is interrupted as I hear the sound of the bathroom door cracking open.

"Helena? Can you pass me the clothes now?" 

"Of course!"

I jump up, gather the clothes, and hand them through the small opening, doing my best not to peek, much to H.G.’s annoyance.

Myka shuts the bathroom door, and calls out, "Thank you!"

"You're welcome!" I call back.

I am suddenly aware rain is no longer pounding on the windows. However, it has not cleared entirely as I can still hear a light rain. Perhaps the storm is passing? I take a peek out the curtains. 

Unfortunately, the moon is still obscured by the clouds, and I wonder if the worse is yet to come.


	10. I Bare My Soul To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka bares her soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty angsty, but is necessary if Myka and Helena expect to have a relationship. Myka desperately needs to bare her soul to Helena, and Helena needs to listen to everything Myka has to say. 
> 
> Also, poor Myka. I've really put her through the ringer in the last two days. But don't worry; she is able to say her peace in this chapter and will continue to do so in the next, although the Helena has her own things she needs to lay out in the open.

I can't see my reflection in the foggy mirror, and wonder if it's truly necessary to do so.

The hot shower felt good, soothing, warm.

This day has been...emotional. 

Yeah, that's the word I'm looking for. 

That's an understatement really.

Finally breaking up with Sam was a relief. I'm not fond of how it happened. He could be an ass, but still... we were together for two months. It sounds short, but in my world, that might as well have been two years. 

And Helena...I wanted her back, didn't I? I bite my lip, and wonder what she will tell me. 

Questions swirl in my mind.

Where has she been? 

What has she been doing? 

And her past...I thought I knew...well, okay, I am aware I didn't know everything. It was obvious she held back, and not just about her job for whoever she supposedly works for. 

Christina was her daughter! She had previously referred to Christina as her brother Charles' daughter. My educated guess would be the stigma of a child out of wedlock would be too great in the time period, especially for one who was a prominent member of society.

I also am aware Helena had a mental breakdown because of her "niece" Christina's murder. I can't imagine what it would be like to have my child murdered. It must be truly devastating, and I wonder how I would react if I'd been in Helena's shoes. 

It was assumed at the time that Helena had committed suicide over the grief when in actuality she was Turned. 

Speaking of which, I find myself more and more curious as to her demon H.G. 

What is her demon like? What kinds of things has she done?

I only know the limited amount Helena has told me (which wasn't much as she preferred not to discuss the topic), and from my own research. 

Helena has only allowed H.G. out when fighting, and even then, I knew I never saw H.G. completely. 

There was one exception however.

The night I had to give her Slayer blood when she was poisoned. H.G. was very much there and in the back of my mind, I wonder if that's why I came so hard when it happened...

I shake off that thought, hoping neither Helena nor her demon are aware of this.

Everything was so chaotic that night. Finding a solution before it was too late, rushing to Helena's aid against Giles' orders, and how wild Helena was when she drank from me. I almost died, and Helena has refused to discuss it. 

Helena has always seemed so determined to have some semblance of control over H.G.

I'm aware H.G. was considered to be quite vicious, but uncharacteristically of a Vampire, refused to kill children. Why? Is it possible Helena's despair over the tragic murder of Christina carried over in some respect to her demon?

"What you are informs what you become..."

Helena's words to me one time she actually deemed it was fine to discuss it.

It's actually a quote from her Sire when she was Turned, and while Helena didn't elaborate, I suspect she blames her human self for the things H.G. did.

I find myself yearning to discover her past, but feel trepidation as well. There is a part of me which fears at what I may learn. What if it's so awful we can't move past it?

And how is Helena connected to Spike? 

Suddenly I blink, and come out of my thoughts. 

I look around and see her hair dryer on one of her bathroom shelves. I grab it, plug it in, and turn it on. 

As I dry my hair, I watch the hot air from the dryer remove the condensation off the mirror. 

By the time I finish, my reflection is clear.

And I'm not sure how I feel about what I see.

—————

I step out of the bathroom to find Helena sitting on the couch with a book on her lap, staring into space.

"Helena?"

She twitches and returns from wherever she was.

"Hello, Myka. Would you like some tea?”

I'm about to decline when I decide hot tea will help soothe my nerves.

"Sure."

Helena smiles slightly, seemingly relieved, and heads to the kitchen.

"Oh, do you have any herbal tea right now? I don't need the caffeine right now,” I call out.

"Chamomile alright?" She calls back as she enters the kitchen.

"That's fine," I respond.

I decide to sit back on the couch to wait. As I do so, I hear the steady falling of the rain, and absently wonder if it will stop at all tonight.

I fidget, feeling nervous. What time is it anyways? I look around me but see no clock, and my broken Scooby Doo watch I insist on wearing is of no help.

I try to relax into the couch, very grateful she suggested tea. Suddenly I spot the paperback book she was reading, left on the coffee table. I chew my lip and wonder if it's okay if I take a look.

Curiosity gets the best of me, and I pick it up to see it's a collection of Edgar Allen Poe short stories. It's an older, well-read copy, but still in fairly good condition.

How long has she had this? I've never seen it. Does she carry it everywhere, like in her jacket pocket?

I steal a glance at the kitchen to see she's still preoccupied. I realize I have little time before she arrives with the tea, so I decide to investigate further.

I'm pleased to see the book is free of dog eared pages. As the daughter of a bookseller, such an action is reprehensible to me. I love the fact she respects the book and has handled it with care.

The table of contents is simply a typical list of Poe's short stories. I can tell The Raven has been read more frequently, as it naturally falls to the first page of the story.

Is there a meaning behind it, or is it just a favorite?

Before my musings can fully take hold, I quickly place the book back as I originally found it, upside down on the coffee table.

I feel guilty for even looking.

More than most people, I'm aware of the sanctity of books and how personal a certain book or story may be.

How a certain story holds secrets which you personally may like to revisit, but you prefer others would not.

In a flash, I stand and stride towards the breakfast bar, eager to put as much distance as possible from the evidence of my invasion of her privacy.

—————

When I sit on a stool watching her prepare my tea, she doesn't look at me; or seem to want to.

I know she's aware I'm here.

Despite the confidence she displayed when we first arrived, she has become nervous. I recognize the mannerisms: running her hand through her locks, and fiddling with her locket.

Suddenly it strikes me why.

She is gathering the courage to talk to me, worried over my reaction.

What she has to tell me must be incredibly difficult.

And I don't know how this makes me feel.

On one hand, happy because she values me and our relationship enough to reveal obviously painful and difficult things.

On the other hand, sad she is distressed, and angry she has hidden so much from me, and chose not to contact me.

It seems she won't start talking anytime soon, so I take the initiative, even if I feel unsure and stressed myself.

"Helena-" I begin, then the tea kettle whistles. Helena seems startled, but turns quickly to remove the kettle from the stovetop.

As she prepares the tea, I see her body relax and I feel sure she finds the familiar action somehow soothing.

Setting it aside to steep, Helena finally looks at me.

I decide honesty is the best route, even if it may be hard for her to hear right now. Yet, I surprise myself by what I say next.

"I remember the first time I saw you. You were so beautiful. I knew you were a vampire but you seemed nearly angelic."

I feel my face flush at the unintended confession, and find myself looking down at the countertop, nervously wringing my hands in my lap.

"I had never met anyone so incredible. You're a genius, and I finally found someone who shared my passion for literature and languages; everything from science to history to philosophy."

I half smile at the memories.

"No matter what the discipline was, talking to you was not just a conversation. It was an experience."

Lifting my head, I see a soft look on her face, free of condescension, encourages me to continue without feeling embarrassed.

"And you understand the darkness," I say, emphatically. "You may not be the Slayer, but you understand the world I inhabit. You understand while I was Chosen without my consent, I'm obligated to protect humanity.

"You also understand how difficult it is to control the Slayer inside of me. The Slayer is born from a shadow demon, and while your demon may be different, there's one thing we both share: if I let her gain control, I could hurt others, even kill.

"Each is a primal beast, even if our reasons and instinct are at opposite ends of the spectrum. We both know the seduction of the dark, and the euphoria of fighting and killing. You know how much I hate myself for enjoying it, for wanting it.

"And I'm guessing somewhere deep inside, you feel the same way, no matter how much you tell yourself it's not true."

She looks off to the side in what I suspect is shame.

"I sometimes wonder where the Slayer ends and I begin. No matter how hard I try, I feel her influence. Her invading my actions, thoughts, feelings.

"You've never gone into detail about what it's like with H.G., but from what I can tell, especially after tonight, it's difficult, and I think somehow more difficult than how it is with my Slayer."

Helena faces me once more and opens her mouth to no doubt reply, but I hurriedly carry on, feeling the compulsion to not stop until my thoughts and feelings are completely voiced.  
"Then right after we saved the day from MacPherson, you leave without saying goodbye. I knew you would eventually need to return to wherever it was you came from, but I was in conscious denial. I just thought..."

I rub the back of my neck, frustrated at her actions and my attempt to explain my own actions and feelings without sounding like an idiotic, innocent lovestruck teenager I feel I was.

"I guess it was naive, but I thought...or rather should I say hoped, we would stay in contact. I never heard from you, so I decided to see if I could find you. Even Claudia couldn't track you down. I admit, I felt kinda like a stalker," I chuckle awkwardly, feeling stupid. "I figured if I found you, there might be a chance you felt the same way. If not, I would accept your answer, and leave you alone.

"But it hurt so much, Helena."

I pause, and dig deep for the courage to make this confession.

"It hurt so much because I had fallen in love with you."

Helena flinches. I feel the beginning of tears, and angrily wipe them away with my sleeve.

"And Giles knew where you were!" I cry, once more feeling the sting of his betrayal. "He knew, and never told me!"

"Please don't condemn Giles." Helena interjects, quietly. "It is not his fault. He never voiced it, but I do know it was a tremendous struggle for him to grant my wish. Once my soul was mine, and mine alone, with no strings attached, Giles raised the subject of my telling you numerous times."

She stops, and briefly looks down at the tabletop. Then lifting her eyes to meet mine, Helena admits, "I am a coward, you see. I'm aware that is a poor excuse but...so much time had passed, and I feared rejection.” Her face darkens, and while it's very brief, I see a flash of her game face. "Then you began a relationship with that boy…"

I ignore her reaction to Sam. It's important she knows things go beyond anything to do with Sam, so I say, "When you were here...before...well, I know I was vague about my certain things. I wanted to distant myself as much as possible from the pain of the past.”

My eyes squeeze shut at the anguish I thought had at least become endurable. Finally I ask, "Do you know who Faith is?"

She nods.

"How much do you know?"

"Enough."

"What does that mean?" I frown at her clipped answer.

Helena sighs. "It means I was here, Myka." My eyes widen at her confession. "I was collecting artifacts in this God forsaken town before you even arrived. Before you were even Chosen."

What the hell?!

"If you knew everything, why didn't you help me stop her?!" I yell. "For god sakes, Helena, she was a Slayer who was Turned! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!"

I'm so angry, I jump up. As I begin to pace, I hear thunder and the rain pounding against the windows.

"Yes, of course I know how dangerous she was!" Helena yells back. "But I was forbidden to interfere! It was not by choice, Myka. Please believe, I would have stepped in...I would have done so in a moment's notice, if I had been allowed!" Helena lowers her voice. "Before Faith, there were actually a few times on my retrievals I nearly ran into you on your patrols. You were always very thorough. In fact, there were moments I was certain you had sensed me.

"I could tell you were unlike any Slayer I had ever encountered before. I felt drawn to you. So much so, it became difficult not to reveal myself. I so wished to meet you. However, my superiors had an idea of my feelings, and they began to limit my retrievals.

"And yes, I knew why Faith was there. I knew you had died, as brief as it was, so she was Called. There were two Slayers on the Hellmouth, and I was thankful you were no longer alone.

"Soon after Faith arrived, a friend of mine took over my duties. He had grown concerned over my continued attachment to you. We both were in Los Angeles when we found out Faith was Turned. I immediately wanted to race back here, but my friend stopped me just in time."

She laughs softly. 

"We have known each other a very long time, and there are times he knows me better than I know myself."

I feel a flash of jealousy at who this friend is, and if there was more than just friendship between them. My irrational jealousy only serves to make me more irritated.

"Eventually I convinced my friend to once again handle retrievals. I promised him I would stay out of it. He knew I was lying of course. He finally acquiesced but reminded me the consequences for interfering. I have a rather bad habit of being unable to follow rules properly." I hear a rueful laugh."I did what I could when I was here without getting caught. I was able to stop Faith a few times when you were unable to.”

I abruptly stop pacing, and spin to look at her, with my anger evaporating as I make the connection. 

"You stopped her from killing my mom.”

Right after Faith was Turned, she gained entrance to my house through my mom's “invitation”. Having met Faith before, she had no reason to believe she had been Turned. My mom and I rarely talked so she had no idea I'd ever been romantically involved with Faith, let alone losing my virginity to her.

"I was at Pete's," I recall. "I didn't find out what happened until a phone call later that night. But I'd heard someone had stopped Faith feeding on my mom.”

"Yes, that was me," she verifies. "I was able to lure Faith outside. We fought and while at one point I gained the upper hand, I was unable to stake her. She ran off, so I called the authorities, and I thought it best to stay in the shadows until they arrived."

"Thank you," I say quietly, and I sit back on the stool, feeling contrite.

Helena merely nods in acknowledgement, and then says softly, "I was somewhere else on another retrieval when I heard what happened with you saving your sister and having to kill Faith in the process.” She watches my eyes tear up, and gently says, "I am truly sorry, Myka."

I can tell she's apologizing for more than just not being there; considering her past with Christina, she knows the pain of losing someone you love. I also wonder in her long past on this earth, if something else happened where she had to kill someone she cared about or even loved.

I rub my hands roughly up and down my thighs, hoping the action will help me gain some sort of control.

"When Faith first arrived," I begin, "it felt great to have another Slayer who could understand what I was going through. We worked as a team. I could take her with me on patrols and not have to worry for my friends' safety.

"But our way of dealing with being the Slayer was very different.

“I agonized over everything. I would question my every action, my every thought. I felt guilty for not being able to save everyone. I hated myself for wanting to ignore my duty so I could be normal for once, even at the cost of someone getting bit.

"Faith didn't agonize. Instead of a curse, Faith saw being a Slayer as a gift. She decided she could do anything she wanted because of who we are. That we were entitled because we were strong and went out every night to fight the evil in this town.”

I laugh humorously, and add, "Her motto was actually want, take, have, if you can believe it."

I shake my head at the memory of the first time Faith told me this. I didn't know what to think at the time, but considering my feelings for her were well on their way to a major crush, it's not surprising I never questioned her so-called 'philosophy'.

"Faith was confident and seemed to be unafraid of anything. But as it turns out, most of her attitude was a bluff. She was more insecure than I knew, than any of us knew, and ironically more afraid than I thought. I never realized this until much later but at the beginning, I only saw what she wanted to show.

"As soon as we met, I immediately developed a crush on her. Faith was gorgeous, and she was the bad girl mothers warn you about, which of course only made her more attractive. When I discovered she was attracted to me, it felt amazing."

I still feel wonderment at the memory. "Someone like her had found nerdy Myka Bering attractive."

"Myka," I hear the chastisement in Helena's voice and violently shake my head, not wanting to dig any deeper into my insecurities.

"As we grew closer, I wanted to...uh..." My face colors, and I dip my head to hide my face in my curls, feeling incredibly embarrassed. "I wanted my first time to be with her, and eventually, we had sex.

"Afterwards, I woke up in a cold empty bed."

I raise my head, but can't bring myself to look directly at Helena.

"Faith came into the room and rejected me as I stood there, demoralized. She told me I meant nothing to her, that having sex with her was just a fuck. Faith knew what it meant to me; she knew I was in love with her. She knew I was making love to her.

"From then on, Faith was a totally different person from the girl I fell in love with. I knew before she became the Slayer, she had been emotionally and physically abused. Her father was a drunk who beat her mother as well. I also know she saw her first Watcher die a horrible death while she was unable to stop it. She barely escaped herself. The Vampire who killed her Watcher had been a serial killer during his human life, and was very strong even before being Turned.” 

I lift my head to face Helena, glad we are passed the embarrassment of discussing me losing my virginity. "Anyhow, things grew progressively worse, and she voluntarily got herself Turned.

"I went after her of course. Every night during patrol, I tried to find her and take her down. Each time I encountered her, I was unable to stake her. She was a strong Slayer and she was worse as a vamp. I was even lucky to escape a few times. If it wasn't for Giles, I would have been Turned as well.

"Eventually, she kidnapped Tracy, and taunted me to come save her. So I went alone to meet her. I was able to rescue Tracy, but I had to kill Faith in order to do it.

"And I promised myself to never have feelings for anyone again.”

I stare directly into Helena's eyes, and hold her gaze. "And then you waltzed in, Helena, the most wonderful creature I had ever seen. How could I not help but fall in love with you?”

Guilt flashed on Helena's face, but I ignore it and admit, "I'd worried you thought my feelings for you were nothing more than a teenager's crush, or first love. But in the end, I couldn't help it, and I let you in.

"I only ever knew what you revealed about your past, and what I'd learned through research. I tried to respect you, and hoped you would eventually tell me.

"And then you left.”

Helena flinches but I dismiss it, and continue.

"When school began, I met Sam. I'd grown tired of waiting for you by that point. I started seeing Sam because he was there. I thought being with Sam would help me get over you. Which at turns out, was not fair to either of us, especially him. His feelings ran deeper than mine, and I was too wrapped up in my own issues to even notice.”

I look away, feeling ashamed at my actions.

"I knew I liked him and was attracted to him. He was a normal human. A nice normal human. Instead of a creature of the night 'bad girl’.

"In the back of my mind, though, I knew I would never fall in love with him."

I run my hand through my hair, and turn back to face Helena. "At first it was nice to be the recipient of his attention. He bent over backwards to be my knight in shining armor, which made me annoyed but not enough to stop seeing him.

"It wasn't long before he discovered I was the Slayer. Hiding who I was had always proven difficult anyways. I would lie about where I was and what I was doing, and the deception got to me more than hiding it from the general public because it was personal and I cared for him.

"So I decided to tell him."

"Giles was not happy of course." I roll my eyes at the memory of our discussion about it. "But after we talked, I think he understood. He wanted me to be happy and have some sort of normal life. He knew more than anyone how short my time on this earth will be.

"Sam had been aware enough anyways to notice something was off with this town; that there was much more going on beneath the surface. But, he was hesitant to go so far as to call the things he'd seen as vampires, and that the disappearances of fellow students was because someone had most likely been bit. In the end, he couldn't come up with any kind of rational explanation.

"He told me even if it WAS vampires, he figured there must be someone or something keeping things from becoming worse. The town hadn't been run over by vampires after all.

"So while the concept of a Slayer wasn't a huge leap for him to accept as being real, what being the Slayer actually MEANS, and what it MEANS for me personally, he could never seem to grasp. Which, became more and more apparent the longer we were together.” I become bitter once again at his misogynistic attitude and ineptitude. "He thought he was being 'helpful' by offering alternatives. He would say I didn't have to go through it alone. I had Pete, Claudia, Steve, and Leena to help. I had him, he said.

"The prick actually thought it was FUN!" I nearly yell, incredulous. "Sure, Sam, it's like a trip to Disneyland!" I mock as if he's standing right in front of me.

"It's not fun," I say derisively. "None of it. He just didn't get it. It comes down to me. It will always come down to me.” Finally I add, feeling resigned, "It doesn't matter anyways. In the end I will die alone.” I stop, breathing heavily. 

Helena stays quiet which I'm grateful for but I see a wide range of emotions cross her face. I wonder how much she knows about the refusal of the Watchers to send another Slayer to the Hellmouth. After all, the Slayer line no longer runs through me, so there must be some girl out there who is activated. 

I asked Giles one day but he has no idea. We both have our own suspicions however. The Watchers cannot be trusted. This new Slayer will mostly likely be trained to follow their every whim unlike Faith or I who apparently flew under the radar. 

I find it highly amusing that Myka Bering who constantly followed every rule in school, respectful of every teacher and authority figure would be deemed difficult or unmanageable . 

But that’s the Watchers for you. 

Self-righteous bastards I have little tolerance for. 

I wonder about the ties between the Watchers, the Powers that Be, and the Regents Helena works for which I know little of. More questions to undoubtedly little information.

At any rate, I’ve stopped thinking I would ever have the help of another Slayer again. Those bastards will know I will protect the Hellmouth until the day I die. 

“Anyhow,” I continue, “things came to a head. After a long talk with Pete, he got me to see it was time to call it quits. And I obviously picked the wrong day to do it." I suck in a deep breath and blow it out, frustrated. "I told Sam this afternoon we needed a break. I just didn't expect him to actually show up at Giles' without my consent.

"Then I hear fighting in Giles' courtyard, Helena." I glare at her. "And what do I find?" I say rhetorically. "I find you with your demon out...ready to drink him dry!”

Helena opens her mouth to speak, but I talk fast so she can't get a word in edgewise.

"I didn't know what to think!" I throw my hands in the air. "Did you even still have your soul?!" I'm so upset, I jump up off the stool, and began to pace once again.  


"I had to use Slayer strength to even get you off him! I don't even want to think about what would've happened if I hadn't been there!"

I pause speaking, and huff, "I have Giles saying he knew for sure you had your soul. He even knew you were coming! And there's Sam sitting there with a broken nose, broken ribs, and god knows what else.

"Then Sam starts to talk and all he does is make me angry. He starts insulting you, me, and women in general. I was ready to hit Sam myself at the end. Thank god Pete and Steve were there to take him to the hospital because I couldn't stand to see anymore of him.

"Next we all go into the house to have a little 'discussion' about Spike and the Gem of Amara, when really all I wanted to do was scream at both you and Giles!"

I stop pacing, and scowl at Helena who stands silent. I see her remorse but I don't care. "And then to top it all off, Amanda shows up, and says you both had wild sex when she was a vengeance demon!" I rub the back of my neck, and know I'm irrationally jealous but at the moment, it's hard to think clearly.

"Helena, the reason I chose to come here tonight is because your talk with Claudia showed me you were serious." I return to my stool. "And the hurt, the despair I heard in your voice...I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt so bad, and well...I wanted to see if this carried over to what you had to tell me."

I see great pain in her face, and despite my earlier anger, I suddenly wish more than anything I could take it away.

"I very much appreciate you doing so," she responds, quietly.

I feel drained, and am suddenly aware I no longer hear thunder, just the steady beat of the rain as it hits the windows. I very much want to be finished talking, but there's more to say.

"Something happened yesterday, Helena, and I really want to talk to you about it." I suddenly feel insecure, and blurt out, "If that's okay."

"You can tell me whatever you wish, Myka. But truly, you don't need to if it's too difficult for you."

I shake my head forcefully.

"No...no. I already told Giles, but...I think you are the only who will understand it the most."

Helena stares at me for a moment. Finally she nods, and hands me my tea. "Let's go into the living room. I, for one, wish to sit on the couch with my tea. While you have more to say, I have my own things I wish to disclose and explain, and I think being more comfortable will help."

I nod, having the feeling we still have a long ways to go. As I stand to retreat to her sofa, I inadvertently notice her drapes, and I think to myself what a good thing it is they are heavy.

I have the feeling we'll be greeting the sun.


	11. Always By Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena makes a phone call to someone who, other than Myka, understands what she is and what she is going through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized as I continued this story how much I frickin' love the Helena and Angel friendship I created. They are total bros, and while Myka and Helena share a deep connection, Angel and Helena share their own deep connection that no one else could ever understand. Helena is luckier than she realizes.
> 
> So things to know:
> 
> -Angel quotes Buffy saying something she never said. He and Buffy discussed the lure of the violence and the need to kill for not only a Vampire, but the Slayer as well. He quotes Buffy as giving the analogy of the craving to a drug. Buffy was never the intellectual Willow was, but she had her own brand of wisdom, not to mention her own unique observations. She could be more astute than people gave her credit for.
> 
> -I had a horrible time figuring out the logistics for this chapter. For instance, what does Helena tell Myka? How would I be able to have the two talk without simply repeating what the reader already knows. I went through numerous ideas and outlines but nothing seemed to fit. 
> 
> I knew I wanted to keep the chapter as simple and short as possible. I decided to have only Myka hear some because she falls asleep in the middle of their talk. The girl has had a very trying couple of days and is exhausted. 
> 
> So, I have Helena call her best bro to talk about what happened. In the end I realized I can smply have their phone conversation. As I wrote, it just flowed so well, and I was able to express everything I needed the reader to hear and learn. 
> 
> -Previously I got the idea to have Helena give Myka her journal she has been writing in since she got her soul back. It was done at the suggestion of Angel to use as a therapeutic tool in dealing with the horror of what she remembers H.G. doing.
> 
> During their phone conversation, Angel says what is important is not the past but who Helena is now. Her search for redemption even in the face of futility considering all of the sins her demon has committed. Helena is a good person. The journal will also help Myka to understand why Helena was unable to reveal where she is.
> 
> -Angel's dialogue is in italics since he is on phone. Helena's dialogue is in plain text.
> 
> -This chapter picks up after the last chapter left off, except it is around two to three hours later. So just keep in mind it is actually in the early a.m. of the day. When Angel says he will bring the journal at nine tonight, he means nine p.m. of this day. Does that make sense? Hopefully, you'll figure it out.

_**One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood. —-Lucius Annaeus Seneca** _

_**\--------** _

_“Well?”_

“Well, what?” I return with faux innocence.

_“Come on, Helena, don't play stupid. You know exactly what I mean.”_

“First, I may be many things, but I am not, nor have ever been, stupid," I respond, while simultaneously fluffing pillows into the arm of the couch so I can get comfortable knowing it will most likely be a long conversation with Angel.

_“Okay, let’s say idiotic instead. Better?”_

“Second, “ I decide to ignore him, as I relax into the pillows and stretch out on the couch.“It was…I…” I struggle with the right words, not really sure where to begin.

 _“Helena. It’s okay if you don't want to discuss it right now. I get it. Buffy and I had our own intense conversations although she knew more about Angelus from the start.”_ Angel pauses _,_ then asks _, “How much does Myka know about the Black Panther of Death?”_

“Bits and pieces,” I sigh. “Well, her knowledge has been limited to the observations of the Watchers.”

_“From what you’ve told me about Myka, I’m surprised she doesn't know more.”_

“What is that supposed to mean?” I frown, wondering if his words are a dig at Myka.

_“I guess I’m just surprised she didn't dig deeper.”_

In my mind’s eye, I can easily see his shrug, and I hear in his voice the lack of judgment.

Mollified, I say, “I must admit, I was surprised myself Myka never made the connection between H.G. and the Black Panther of Death. It seems she glossed right over any connection between the two. There is a part of me that wonders if she did so on purpose. Or unconsciously perhaps. After all, the deeds H.G. committed in that persona were horrific, and after my revelation, it is difficult to believe Myka wants anything to do with me at all.”

_“Where is she now?”_

“Sleeping. In my bed.”

_“Helena-“_

I roll my eyes at his insinuation. “It’s not like that, Angel. She actually fell asleep in the middle of our conversation. I was frankly not surprised. Apparently the last few days have been exhausting, and tonight, emotions ran very high.”

_“I’m not sure how you feel about it, but it may have been for the best she fell asleep right now, Helena.”_

“Angel, I don't understand how you could come to this conclusion,” I object. “This simply prolongs what Myka needs to hear. And let’s face it; what she needs to hear is much worse.”

_“Look, Helena, I’m not sure if she needs to know every detail of H.G.’s past. I think it’s more important who you are now. Someone who is working hard to repent, someone who is making a difference in this world.”_

“Angel, we both know we will never be able to fully repent for our demons’ sins. Even if we stayed alive for another 200 years, it will never happen,” I respond pointedly.

_“Helena, you keep talking like that, and I’ll put Cordelia on.”_

“All right, fine,” I concede, exasperated. “I will stop being so morose. It's hard to remain positive in the face of our conversation.”

_“Look, I have an idea, but I’m not sure what you’ll think.”_

“What is it?” I ask suspicious, hearing the hesitation and caution in his voice.

_“What if you show her the journal you’ve been keeping since you got your soul back? Obviously, I don't know the specifics of what you wrote, but…well…even though you’re so hell bent on telling Myka every single detail of H.G.’s past, you might want to consider letting her know who Helena is. The Helena who not only struggles with the memories everyday, but the woman who is making a difference. And the woman whose hands were tied to prevent her from seeing Myka.”_

“Did you read my journal?” I demand, ignoring the soundness of the idea, not particular caring my response is one of my usual knee jerk reactions.

_“Helena, I was the one to suggest it in the first place. Remember? It was to help you deal with your past, and it was meant to be private. And contrary to your belief, I have never betrayed this trust.”_

“How do you know I still write in it?” I query, still slightly perturbed.

Then I hear the smirk in his voice.

_"Because you just told me.”_

I roll my eyes. “Did you let Buffy read yours?” I counter.

_“Yes, I did. I’m guessing yours is longer and has more detail, however. You know how I am.”_

“Yes, I do.” I smile. “Even though I’ve never read your journal, it's been fairly obvious you’ve never been one for long prose. At least from what I’ve witnessed. I don't recall Angelus being any better.”

 _“His talent was art…drawing and taunting his victims.”_ I hear the anger and guilt, things I am intimately familiar with myself.

“Angel,” I admonish, “Take your own advice and remember you aren't that individual anymore. If you don’t stop, I will have Cordelia make your life miserable when I return.”

He chuckles. _“I don't see how that's any different than it is now.”_

“True, I suppose. She is the most forthright individual I have ever met.”

_“I think you mean she lacks no filter.”_

I laugh but then my mood sobers. “I…I…don't know if I can do it, Angel.”

_“I know we don't always agree, and you know I won’t tell you what to do but…I think it helped my relationship with Buffy. She already knew a number of things about Angelus, and while we talked about it, I soon realized I wanted her to know ‘Angel’. To know more about the me now, with my soul returned…how I was striving to repent and do good in the world._

_“So I gave her my journal to read. And yeah it was tough doing it. I knew I could trust her but what I wrote was deeply personal._

_“After she finished reading, we had a long conversation. There was an intimacy that wasn't there before, and I knew I’d made the right decision by opening myself up to her.”_

I sigh, and think of the sleeping young woman I am in love with sleeping in my bedroom, and make the difficult decision.

“All right, all right.”

 _“Good.”_ I hear the smile in his voice, and I feel soothed by Angel’s support. If H.G. wasn’t so sated with all of the extra blood I drank, I’m sure I would be privy to her disgust at my reaction.

_“Have you found any trace of Spike yet?”_

“No,” I respond. “The rain has made it too difficult to search tonight. I am certain Spike is holed up somewhere tonight anyway. The rain is scheduled to give way to sunny skies at little after dawn this morning I believe. Myka and I plan to patrol tonight."

 _“I suspected as much. The rain’s been pretty nasty here as well.”_ He laughs. " _It’s been so bad, I told Cordelia to stay over night.”_

“I suspect she was upset at the idea?” I smile, amused at the idea of Cordelia without access to her cherished clothes and makeup.

_“At first. I wound up bribing her with time and a half for today, or should I say yesterday. I gave her some pajamas, and set her up in my bedroom.”_

“How very Cordelia,” I reply, laughing. Then sobering, I change topics. “Myka was devastated when I disappeared without saying goodbye, Angel. More so than I expected.”

_“I know you feel guilty, Helena, but like I said, it was out of your hands.”_

“Regardless, it does little to help ease my guilt.” I shake my head, insistant on refusing his reassurance.

_“Well, let me ask you this. Let’s pretend you were never ordered to stay away. What would you have done?”_

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, would you have kept in contact with her? Would you have pursued a relationship if you had no restrictions?”

“I…” I feel thrown by the questions.

“ _Helena, I know you think she’s better off with someone…human…that could be with her in every sense of the word, which includes sunlight…and someone her own age.”_

“Well, why shouldn't she?!” I protest. “I can’t be either of those things. I am a monster. She deserves everything, not someone who can only be in the dark and is one hundred years her senior.

“I’m not worthy,” I lament, and add quietly, “Just like I was never worthy of Woolly or even Christina.”

 _“You know, I used to wonder how Buffy could have possibly loved someone who had been nothing more than a drunken asshole as a human,”_ he muses _, “and a demon, murdered his family in the most horrible of ways. You know the cruelty Angelus is capable of.”_

Memories associated with Angelus surface unbidden and I shake them off; I’m talking to Angel, not Angelus.

 _“Give her credit, Helena. We’re not talking about someone human. She’s the Slayer. She may be 18 years old in human terms, but there is a part of her that is older than either one of us combined,”_ he says, telling me something I realize I often forget.

_“Before she was Called, Buffy was shallow and even cruel to those who were not considered worthy of her time. Anyone different, whether it be the clothes they wore, how they looked, how they acted, how much money their parents made._

_“Everything changed the moment she became the Slayer. She became ostracized. The Slayer gave her the need, the want, to protect the innocent; those who could not protect themselves. Being the Slayer made her realize how she used to treat others._

_“Buffy was by no means stupid. She may not have been the intellectual Myka is, but the Slayer gave her focus, and ironically, gave her back her humanity. Buffy was more than aware how little time she had left on earth.”_

“Angel, I can see where you’re headed with this, but Myka’s situation is completely different. She was one of those that Buffy would have tormented, and I’m aware from what Pete and Claudia have told me, Myka already had a certain level of maturity before being Called.”

 _“But,”_ Angel argues, " _I’m betting the moment she became the Slayer, there was a level of maturity and awareness that wasn't there before. There was the intense drive to help and defend others despite her personal safety; to kill to protect the innocent.”_

I can hear the frustration in his voice at my usual stubbornness, but I feel belligerent at the moment.

_“What I’m saying is, she is not a normal teenager. Not matter how much she wishes it, she never will be._

_“Just like Buffy, Myka knows she’ll die soon.” I close my eyes at the reminder. “The Slayer knows what she wants for the rest of her time on this earth. She knows what she needs._

_“And she knows what she needs, what she wants, is you.”_

I give a short bark of a laugh, open my eyes, and respond wryly, “Myka did say something similar earlier to this effect. Well, actually she was very eloquent.”

_“What did she say?”_

“Myka reminded me the Slayer is forged from a demon, that while of a different kind, allows us an understanding of our mutual need to be in the dark. I understand the world she inhabits because it is my own as well.

“We share the struggle to not let our demons have free reign, and the struggle to control our demons and its influence. The invasion of thoughts, actions, feelings. Where our demons end, and we begin.” I shake my head slowly in wonder. She sees more, and understands more than I give her credit for.

“Then Myka said something that was incredibly astute. Something I’ve never allowed myself to fully admit.”

I pause, absently grateful for him silently and patiently waiting for me to continue.

“We are both primal, and we each know the euphoria of fighting and killing and how seductive it is. How much we, not just our demons, crave it, and how much we hate ourselves for it.

“And how I personally refuse to fully acknowledge this truth.”

Angel is quiet, then offers, _“Buffy actually said something similar to me once. At one point, she compared it to a drug. A drug you can’t quit. A drug that’s always there for the taking. Taking us as far as we want; so far, we lose control and crash, bringing us and others with us._

_“I hate myself too, Helena. And not just for my demon’s sins, but for still craving it and enjoying it when I get a taste.”_

“It is hard to resist, is it not?”

_“It is. Having someone you love relate to you on that level is an incredible thing._

_“You know, when I found you, when I was sent by the Powers to find you…it was with mixed emotions. While I’m ashamed to admit I felt relief and happiness at not being alone anymore, I was also worried. The struggle and constant reminder of our sins is not something I would’ve wished on you. The weight’s unbearable at times._

_“We have always had our differences and a somewhat love hate relationship, but we both understand what having your soul return means, and it has really helped to have someone else to talk to and just get it._

_“After Buffy died, it was really hard on me. I was alone again. I was warned to stay away from the next Slayer. I’m amazed I got away with being with Buffy in the first place, but she wasn’t about to be told what to do by anyone, including her Watcher. He soon realized she would continue seeing me regardless. In the end, he really had no choice but to accept it. She was the Slayer. There wasn't anyone else who could do her job no matter how much the Watchers tried to control her life._

_“Anyways, when you came, it helped to have someone who understood. But I will always be sorry you had to go through this.”_

I smile softly, surprised at his confession.“You never told me that before.”

_“I know but I’ve wanted to tell you for some time. We’re both pretty private and sometimes it seems like our demons get in the way of really talking about things. You know how much they agitate each other.”_

“When things settle down with Myka, I welcome a longer conversation with you,” I respond warmly, truly meaning it.

_“Me too.”_

My eyes stray to the broken wristwatch I have never seen Myka take off. I reach over to the coffee table and pick it up, staring at the hands stopped at 5:30.

“You know, Myka confided in me that today is the anniversary of the first time she had to choose between who lived and who died. And the irony? It was Darla our Sire and the minions of the Master who forced her to choose.

“She feels she lost her innocence at that moment. And that’s when her overwhelming guilt began. It haunts her every year.

“There is another irony.” I think back to my pocket watch in my coat, breaking the night I was Turned, and suddenly remember the dial on my own watch reads 5:30 as well. “Do you know today is the 100 year anniversary of my Turning? The moment I made my own choice as to who lived and who died. I not only cursed myself, but I cursed those tormented by my demon in the future.”

_“First off, you have no control over Darla’s actions no matter how much you tell yourself you do. Second, this may sound harsh, but it was inevitable she would eventually have to make the choice between who lives and who dies. You can't control everything, no matter hard you try. You’re only fooling yourself if you think you can._

_“Making these kind of choices come along with being the Slayer. Myka’s lucky she has Giles as her Watcher. Most Watchers aren’t like him. We both know he would do anything for her. And from what you’ve told me, her friends would do anything humanly possible for her as well.”_

“I know. I just…”

Angel sighs. " _How about I bring your journal around nine tonight? Right now, you have no idea how long it'll take to catch Spike, right? I can always lend a hand for at least one night before I have to return to L.A.”_

“I can't ask you to do this, Angel.”

_“You’re not asking; I’m volunteering. In fact, I take it back. I’m coming whether you like it or not.”_

I roll my eyes, and while there is a part of me who wants to object, there is a larger part of me who is grateful.

_“But it is still your decision whether you wish to show it to her.”_

“If you insist.”

 _“I do,”_ he responds with clear affection, and I’m reminded of how our friendship has become so dear to me.

“All righty then,” I capitulate. “My journal is locked away in my safe.”

 _“You mean, the one you supposedly don't have?”_ Angel teases.

“Yes, that one. The one that is infinity superior to yours,” I sniff, haughty.

He laughs, but suddenly stops.  _“Does Myka know I exist?”_

“Yes, to an extent, mostly due to your history with Buffy.”

_“Does she know you work for me?”_

“I don't **work** for you, Angel,” I return, feeling annoyed at his masculine arrogance. “I work **beside** you. There’s a difference, you twat.”

_“Okay, okay. My colleague then.”_

“That’s better.”

_“Fine. I’ll rephrase the question. Does she know we are colleagues?”_

“Yes, but not many details. I went to heat up more tea, and came back to find her sound asleep on the couch before I could say more.”

_“I’m not sure if I should be insulted by that.”_

“What? That the mere mention of you is enough to put one to sleep?” I needle.

 _“Oh, I forget I am in the presence of the Great Helena Wells who could charm the skin off a snake,”_ he scoffs, good-naturedly.

“Naturally,” I say loftily, knowing full good and well I have my own arrogance that I know annoys him in turn.

_“And who has an ego the size of China.”_

“You have no lack of ego, Angel,” I droll.

_“Well, she has yet to meet me in person, so I'm sure her perception of me will change for the better.”_

“Doubtful,” I guffaw.

 _“It’s not doubtful, it’s a guarantee.”_ His teasing ends, and he asks, _“Can I ask you how things went at Giles’? I know how worried you were when you left.”_

“It was…” I run my hand through my hair, nervous about the repercussions when Angel learns of my reaction to the impudent boy who had the nerve to have Myka’s scent on his clothing.

“I did something idiotic,” I finally admit.

_“You or H.G.?_

“Both, I suppose.”

 _“Helena, what did you do?”_ he demands.

“Angel, do not take that tone with me,” I retort, and I feel my hackles rise.

_“Helena, I know you and I know your demon. I can take a guess. You got into a fight with her boyfriend out of jealousy.”_

“Well…” I hedge.

_“Helena! You didn't bite him did you?!”_

He yells so loud I immediately yank the phone away from my ear.

_"Did you let H.G. out?”_

I lower the volume on the phone, and upon returning it to my ear, I say resolutely, “No, I did not bite him.”

_“But you let H.G. out.”_

It wasn't a question.

“All right, yes, I let H.G. out.” I throw one arm up in the air, exasperated. “That boy was an insolent child.”

_“Did you let H.G. all the way out? Did you lose control of her?”_

“Angel-“ I start.

 _“Jesus, Helena!”_ He interrupts, antagonizing me.

“How dare you admonish me! You weren’t even there!”

_“How badly did you hurt him?”_

“He may have a broken nose,” I report, grudgingly, but then mumble, “And broken ribs. And maybe a broken tooth.”

 _“But H.G. didn't bite him?”_ he presses.

“No, she did not.”

_“How close were you?”_

“Very,” I answer quietly.

_“What stopped you?”_

“Myka.” I pause, then deflect, “You can't tell me Angelus never came out when you were jealous over Buffy.”

 _“Don't bring Angelus and Buffy into this, Helena,”_ Angel warns.

“Should I take that as a yes or a no?” I say flippantly.

_“Quit being an asshole, or I’m hanging up and you're on your own.”_

I suck in an unneeded breath, realizing I most certainly went too far, simply to ease my own guilt.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, sincerely. “I just…”

 _“You just were a jealous prick,”_ he finishes for me.

“Yes, I was a “jealous prick” as you put it." I feel rather vexed at his correct interpretation of the situation. “It’s always been hard to hold H.G. back when I become jealous.”

 _“Yeah, I know,”_ he concedes.

_"What happened later on? What was Myka’s reaction to all of this?”_

My lips inadvertently upturn into a smirk. “Let’s just say they are no longer together.”

_“That doesn't answer my question.”_

“Yes, she was angry but it was obvious other emotions were at play. As I said, it was an emotionally charged night.”

_“Okay, okay. I’ll lay off. So I’m guessing this means you two still need to talk about it?”_

“Yes,” I sigh. “That's one more thing to add to the list of what we need to discuss.”

 _“You don't have to come back right away, you know. After you get the gem. I can come pick it up, and you can stay longer. If you need more time to talk,”_ he proposes.

“Thank you for the offer, but let’s just play it by ear.”

_“Sure.”_

I run my hand through my black locks, eager to change topics. “Do you have pen and paper at hand?”

“ _Uh…_ ” I hear him walk around. _"Yeah, got it.”_

“Ready for the info on how to open the safe?”

 _“Ready,”_ he responds, then adds, _"Oh and Helena…”_

“Yes?”

_“I just want to say no matter what happens I’m by your side.”_

“Including if H.G. drains someone dry?”

 _“For everything,”_ he reiterates.

I smile. “That means a great deal.”

 _“That doesn't mean I won't ball you out and kick your ass,”_ he reminds me.

I roll my eyes, silently accepting his terms. “Are you ready for the instructions or not?”

_“Fire away.”_

The rain has settled into a drizzle, and there is hope in my chest.

“The safe is under a floorboard in my closet…” I begin.

 

 

 


	12. Sophie's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena knows she will have to eventually make a choice no one should have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I tried to make it clear this takes place the morning of the previous chapter. They were interrupted from talking more by Giles' call.
> 
> -As in the BtVS episode "The Harsh Light of Day", I'm having Spike find the Gem of Amara under UC Sunnydale. There isn't a big earthquake like in the episode but a tremor large enough for them to figure out Spike is there and has the Gem. However, there is no Harmony, the entire operation to look for the Gem is smaller, and he found the Gem in a crypt he discovered within the sewer system. I don't know how much I will discuss this part. The next chapter or so I may make more mention of it. But in the end, the Gem is nothing more than a Macguffin which I'm sure most of you have already figured out anyways. Oh, and in case you don't know what a macguffin is, it's "importance to the plot is not the object itself, but rather its effect on the characters and their motivations." (see Wikipedia)
> 
> -Helena's memory of H.G. Turning William (who later adopts the name Spike for those unfamiliar with BtVS) is in italics. 
> 
> -I tried to stick closely to how the character William was portrayed, maybe giving him a little more credit for his intelligence level than was shown. 
> 
> -As this is AU, things are not exactly the same as Canon anyways. But you should know this by now (hopefully). 
> 
> -Also, bonding (making someone your Mate) between two vampires is just something people have written about in fics, and as far as I know, this has no mention in canon at all. I just think it's kinda cool, and so I decided to use it.
> 
> -Part One is called Sophie's Choice because H.G. (and by proxy, Helena) is going to have to decide between a Childe (Spike) and a potential Mate (Myka). How does one deal with such a choice? From Helena's perspective at the moment, one must die. 
> 
> -In case you are unaware, Sophie's Choice is the title of a movie with Meryl Streep. I still haven't seen it, but the choice she has to make deciding which of her two. children must die, is rather well known.

****

**_SS officer: You believe in Christ the redeemer?_  
** Sophie: Yes.  
SS officer: [looks at Sophie's children] Did He not say... "Suffer the children, come unto me?"  
[Sophie remains silent]  
SS officer: You may keep one of your children.  
Sophie: I beg your pardon?  
SS officer: You may keep one of your children. The other must go away.  
Sophie: You mean, I have to choose?  
SS officer: You are a Polack, not a Yid. That gives you a privilege, a choice.  
Sophie: I can't choose. I can't choose!  
SS officer: Be quiet.  
Sophie: I can't choose!  
SS officer: Make a choice. Or I'll send both of them over there. Make a choice.  
Sophie: Don't make me choose! I can't!  
SS officer: Shut up! Enough! I'll send them both over there! I told you to shut up! Make a choice!  
Sophie: I can't choose! Please! I can't choose!  
SS officer: [to an officer] Take BOTH children away!  
[Sophie clings on to her son while the Nazis take her screaming and crying daughter away from her]  
Sophie: Take my little girl! Take my baby! 

_**-** quote from screenwriter William Styron of "Sophie's Choice" based on his book of the same name._

 

**_\----------_ **

The stink of the sewers is pungent but I ignore it as I run, the smell reminding me of the madness which consumed me upon the return of my soul.

My boots splash through the dirty water, and I hope I will not be too late causing me to once again curse my past.

As I follow Myka who knows this way to UC Sunnydale better than I, I think to myself if Myka dies today, I will welcome the sun with open arms, consuming me in fire and ash.

\----------

Myka suddenly stops at a fork in the sewage tunnels and I nearly run right into her back.

I catch my footing however, and she smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.” Myka rubs the back of her neck, the gesture familiar, and it brings a small smile to my face.

“It’s fine,” I respond, and then ask, “Is there a particular reason you stopped?”

“I think we should split up.” Seeing the question on my face, she clarifies, "If Giles is right, the epicenter of the tremor is where Spike is, but since it’s been twenty minutes, he could be anywhere by now. Sunlight won't stop him. This tunnel leads to where I have a good eye of the surrounding area before heading back over to the epicenter.”

“And if he is still underground in the epicenter, I may be able to catch him before he reaches the top,” I finish, and she nods.

Suddenly it hits me; I can't do anything at all if Spike made it above ground. H.G. flashes before I can stop her, and I sense conflict in her emotions.

“Itching for a fight?”

“What?” I’m too absorbed in internal conflict to pay too much attention to Myka.

“I saw H.G., Helena,” Myka says pointedly.

“Oh,” I pause, not ready to vocalize my conflicting feelings, so I take the easy route. “Yes. Yes, she is.”

Internally, I snark at H.G.

‘Maybe the fight will deal with your pent up energy.’

/Pent up energy! It’s going to take more than fighting to calm my ‘pent up energy’ as you put it./

“Shut it. I’ll give you blood later, you arse. You can just deal with no sex.”

Myka suddenly sports a blush, and I frown, but then it hits me I spoke aloud. H.G. of course notices the blush right away and I can hear the glee in her voice.

/This is why you should listen to me more often, because she wants us right now. We could have bed her already!/

I decide being prudent is the better part of valor. It is not the time to address my blunder, or Myka’s reaction. Perhaps later, when we continue our much needed discussion from last night.

Instead, I say loudly, “Good luck. And Myka, please be careful. Spike can be powerful, and with the gem making him virtually invincible…well, let’s just say he is a formidable opponent at the best of times, even against Slayers.”

I neglect to mention the Slayer he murdered, but then, Myka is already aware of this.

She nods. “I will. Um…” Myka chews her lip, and I see a moment of indecision before she rushes forward and begins to kiss me passionately like the world is ending.

It takes me a moment to process what’s happening. Myka’s lips are as sweet and soft as I remember. I reach around and pull her flush against me, but when I start to fully reciprocate, she abruptly pulls back, and shyly refuses to meet my eyes.

"See ya later!” she exclaims, and races off before I respond.

/YES! I know what we’re doing later!/

I don't bother admonishing my demon.

There is a part of me who very much wants Myka, but as usual my practical mental voice says not yet. There is too much that needs to be said between us. It’s the right thing to do, after all.

Still, as I take off like a shot, in the back of my mind I wonder if I really need to be so noble.

\----------

/Our Childe is near/

‘You don't need to tell me. I can sense him too, as you are well aware of.’

My demon doesn't respond to my dry reply. She is focused on Spike, causing my fears to rise to the surface.

What if I can't protect Myka because H.G. stops me? And then my darkest deepest fear: H.G. ignores me completely, and instead of protecting Myka, she helps Spike, and kills Myka in the process? The lure of the gem is strong, and I admit its lure is seductive, even to me.

As I get close, I mentally block H.G. with a ferocity I have never done before.

I reach the ladder to the uncovered manhole, but Spike is nowhere in sight, and I punch a sizable hole in the concrete wall, and curse my limitation.

The rays of the sun shine through the opening, illuminating down into the cold dark sewers like the light from the heavens above. And as a creature of the night, consigned to hell by my own doing, I can only hide in the shadows, knowing I can never follow Myka into the light of day.

“Helena! Hey, Helena!”

I jerk my head up to see Pete of all people, with only his head visible through the open manhole in front of what looks like a large umbrella.

“Myka just found Spike. Climb up and I’ll cover you. It doesn't look like it, but there’s actually shade over here.”

I grin at the human boy I have underestimated in the past.

While I can never follow Myka directly into the sun, there are alternatives and it makes my undead heart sing with joy.

\----------

I hug the building I use to cover me from the sun which will have no compunction in setting me aflame if I step one foot outside the shadows.

No matter how hard I try, H.G. rises to the surface, and I sense her internal struggle. She is happy to see our Childe, and it’s obvious in her own way, she cares for him and his wellbeing.

But there is something else…

Suddenly I realize with shock what it is: no matter how hard H.G.'s fought against it, no matter how much she claims to only want Myka for blood and sex, she is recognizing Myka as our Mate.

And H.G. has to make a decision no parent should have to make.

Do I sacrifice my Childe or my Mate?

~~~~~~~~~~

_“Are you…I was rather hoping you could…”_

_“Stay?”_

_“Yes, I suppose.”_

_William drops his head, tousled from our previous activities, and scrunches the blankets with his fists._

_I smirk, and continue buttoning my blouse. I did, despite my earlier intentions, rather enjoy our time together. A surprising turn of events, really. I expected my time with William to be like the others; an appeasement for my sexual appetite, perhaps with the addition of either a feed or a complete turn, which I have never done as most are deemed unworthy in my eyes._

_He was a virgin when I took him to bed, and was somewhat clumsy at first, but was surprisingly quick to learn how to satisfy a woman._

_And it has been wonderful to enjoy an intellect I often find lacking in most humans, most especially in men._

_Perhaps…_

_William has been silent, and I am perfectly well aware he has been watching me. I am fully dressed now, minus my waistcoat, and decide to try a little test._

_I step in front of the gaudy mirror until I hear an audible gasp, and then a whispered, “I should have known…”_

_I swiftly turn fully, allowing my face to morph into my true visage, and walk over to the bed, staring at him._

_William has put on his spectacles, and I can hear his heart beat wildly. I smell fear, but underneath is also curiosity._

_He gulps, and tries to compose himself._

_“Are you..are you going to kill me?”_

_I sit down on the bed, brushing one of his curls away from his face._

_Instead of answering, I say, “Do you not yearn for more than this-“ I wave my hand in a gesture, to encompass not just the room, but this paltry world of humanity-“mundane existence? Do you not yearn to see…to explore…all the world has to offer?_

_“Humanity is such a bore, love. Do you not wish to explore new lands? To meet others with whom you may have intellectual discourse unlike the imbeciles you currently surround yourself with?_

_“To have no fears. To have no regrets. To live as you please. To not be enslaved to your families expectations or the humiliation at your expense when you share your heart.”_

_His pained expression shows me I hit my mark._

_I caress his face. “Darling, I can show you things like no other. If it is revenge you seek on those who treated you with contempt, it is easy to do so. But that is only the tip of the iceberg.”_

_William hesitates, but I sense anticipation. “Will it…will it hurt?”_

_I run my hand through his hair, which is soft as a girl’s. “William, I have decided to make you my Childe. I do not do this lightly. You are the first I have deemed worthy of this. Thus, I will endeavor to make the experience as pleasurable as possible.”_

_His doubt disappears, and while there is still a hint of fear, he smiles. With a sense of wonder, he reaches towards me and caresses the ridges on my forehead, causing me to purr._

_A wide grin overtakes his face, and I know William is ready to become my Childe forever._

~~~~~~~~~~

The memory fades, and I feel the love H.G. has for her Childe.

I admit, I feel a certain fondness for him as well. It is difficult not to, considering H.G. is a part of me.

It is true Spike, as he is called now, fulfilled many of H.G.’s requirements for a true Childe. But like many men, he let her down in the end.

Spike's increasing need to best Angelus whether it be in violence or competition for Angelus’ Childe Drusilla’s affections grew tiresome. His intellect, while not entirely disappearing, was no longer a match for H.G.’s.

Though H.G. would be loathe to admit it, she Turned Spike because of his human self, expecting some of those traits she was witness to appear in some form.

My rumination calls to mind my own Sire’s words.

"What we were, informs what we become."

Darla had a rather limited amount of formal education but she had a certain wisdom all her own. I never knew whether to attribute it to being extremely streetwise or it simply borne of survival instinct. H.G. admired her for this, and while H.G. is very savvy in her own right, she grew even more savvy under Darla’s tutorage.

But there were times when Darla’s continual use of her skills in controlling men seemed to flip where she herself were controlled by males. Unsurprisingly, H.G. hated any control over her whatsoever, especially by a male, and instead sought to be the one who was the controller.

Despite her disappointments in William, H.G. still cared for him in her own way. It may not be the same, but human parents generally still love and care for their offspring even if they feel their child makes wrong decisions and does not grow up to be what the parent feels is their full potential.

Eventually, H.G. left her vampire family of Angelus, Drusilla, Darla, and Spike. She had missed being on her own, and welcomed the chance to do so. Though H.G. enjoyed her time alone, she sought company elsewhere either through sex, or camaraderie along the way with a few other demons.

The most satisfying however was the Turning of two other Childer: a French writer named Giselle in 1928 and Abigail Chow, an American Psychologist in 1972. Giselle was killed at the hands of a Nazi officer in 1940, and Abigail was killed in 1981 by another vampire in retaliation for H.G. rejecting his advances. Needless to say, the Nazi officer and the vampire met very gruesome ends.

H.G. and Spike spent brief times together as the decades past. Our last meeting was in Los Angeles on a case I was working on with Angel in 1992.

Spike had heard my soul had returned. This was also the first time he had come upon a souled Angelus. There were high emotions on the parts of everyone involved: Angel, myself, Spike, and our two demons. The arrival of killers we sought who were in possession of a dangerous artifact was the only thing stopping any escalation of emotions in this encounter.

During an intense chase and fight, Spike disappeared, and we never knew how or why, but Angel and I, while never discussing the situation in depth, were relieved. Controlling our demons was difficult at the best of times, but around others of our vampire family (especially a Childe) made it incredibly hard.

A Childe is more than humans understand, but none of her Childer became H.G.’s Mate, which is something altogether different. The fact H.G. would even consider anyone other than another vampire is astonishing.

Truly, though, Myka is the embodiment of everything H.G. not only wishes of a Childe, but characteristics of a Mate most especially.

Myka is the only one ever to come near our intelligence level. She is full of knowledge and always yearning for more; independent minded; strong; beautiful; and most importantly, female.

However, while H.G. admires Myka’s strength of will, she despises Myka’s strong moral compass.

Despite this, H.G. is much more attracted to those who are stubborn and can hold themselves in any sparring with her, whether it be verbal or physical. The fact Myka as the Slayer is more than a formidable opponent in physicality makes the idea of a Myka as our Mate even more potent.

A vampire taking the Slayer as a Mate is…well, unheard of. Angel and Buffy were the closest I’ve ever heard close to it, and I know there were some in the demon community who were convinced they were bonded. I know Angel regrets not being able to take Buffy as his Mate, for fear of losing his soul at the joy of such a bonding.

I have heard of instances when one Mate dies, the other will purposely fling themselves into the sunlight, not wishing to exist on this plane of existence without their Mate. I know Myka will die within a year or so; she is the Slayer after all. If I do Mate with her, I have no doubt I will fling my own self into the sunlight.

But what really frightens me is H.G. knows my deepest darkest secret regarding Myka, and because she knows this truth, she continues to torment me.

No matter how much I protest, the deepest secret I hold is how much I want to Turn Myka to forever remain with me.

And if I found a way to keep her soul intact, I doubt even Angel could stop me.

 

 

 

 

 

****

 


	13. Shadows in the Harsh Light of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Myka and Spike fight in the sunlight, Helena feels helpless trapped in the shadows unable to step into the light, and unable to protect both her Mate and her Childe.
> 
> (Be sure to read the notes first)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we finally have reached the climactic fight! I split the fight into two chapters because it was so long, but I just added a flashback Helena has with Darla here in the beginning, so it is still really long!
> 
> Some things to know:
> 
> 1) the flashback with Helena and Darla in the beginning
> 
> -This takes place during the first year Myka was activated. Darla is around Sunnydale to be with the Master just like in BtVS season one
> 
> -Helena has started doing retrievals of artifacts at this moment. She was aware of what was happening and that Darla was around, but like I explained before, she was powerless by the Powers that Be from helping Myka due to her losing her soul if she helped in any way.
> 
> -The scene is actually very similar to a scene between Angel and Darla in season one episode 7. Parts of the dialogue are pretty close, but I did my best to change things around and added other things so as not to be a complete replica of the scene.
> 
> -I already mentioned this before but in case you have forgotten, a manhole to the sewers is very close to Helena's apartment, so it's not exceedingly difficult getting into her apartment from the manhole since there is lots of tree covering as well. 
> 
> 2) Myka's fight with Spike
> 
> -this is like the fight scene between Buffy and Spike in the season four BtVS episode "The Harsh Light of Day".
> 
> -there were a few pieces of dialogue I kept they were just so good, but I did my change the dialogue and put a different spin on the fight. 
> 
> -I always thought Spike got a big kick out of taunting not only people, but anything and anyone, including other demons. James Masters (who played Spike) once said in an interview that if he could choose one word to describe Spike it would be "Glee", and I would have to agree. Spike seemed to take delight in everything he did, and I tried to capture that here. 
> 
> -Spike says he Turned Faith in this chapter. I'm not gonna say whether that's true or not. You'll just have to wait and see. The important thing is how it affects Myka, who takes it quite badly.
> 
> -As usual, Helena's demon H.G.'s internal dialogue is separated by / 
> 
> -italics separate the flashback

  _"Who's there?”_

_"A friend.”_

_I turn on the light and my Sire emerges from the dark hallway that leads to my bedroom._

_"You're no friend of mine.”_

_/Sire!/_

_"Oh, come on, H.G. That's no way to talk. After all, we haven't seen each other since...what was it…Paris?"_

_I’ve been out on a retrieval, and am very conscious of the artifact in my pocket, but somehow I think Darla is not here for that._

_I think she’s here for me._

_Instead of answering, I simply turn my back deliberately on her, and reach for a bottle of red wine, and noticing the label, immediately put it back on the shelf._

_I open my closed eyes, and turn around to find Darla grinning at me with her head cocked in amusement, standing at the my far window._

_The window that has no trees to protect me._

_"I see you’re living above ground, even if you have to take the sewers to get close enough to get inside. Tell me; does it make you feel like them?” She grabs the cord of the blinds.”But guess what, honey?_

_“You're not.”_

_Darla draws the curtain back just enough for the bright sun to stream through._

_“Are you?”_

_I stagger backwards to keep from becoming nothing but ash._

_I hear Darla close the drapes, and when I open my eyes, she smirks at me_

_“We both know I will never be one of them again, but I am not one of you either."_

_“Is that what you and Angelus tell yourselves these days?” She sighs. “Two of my favorite Childer soiled with a human soul.”_

_“It was not exactly within our control, as you very well know,” I answer dryly._

_Darla says nothing, skips into the kitchen, over to refrigerator, and opens it with a flourish._ _She grabs a bottle of blood, and uncaps it. We both vamp out at the fresh scent of blood._

_She takes a swig and spits it out with a look of disgust. “Pig’s blood? Really, H.G.?”_

_I don't answer._

_“We both know what you really crave.”_

_I close my eyes, hating to admit she's right. I sense her come close. She caresses my ridges, causing an involuntary purr._

_“Sire.” The word is full of longing, and while if comes out my mouth, it isn’t from me, and Darla gives a feral smile._

_“Oh, there you are, H.G.”_

_/YES!/_

_“One can always suppress one’s own true nature for so long. It’s always there, just under the surface.”_

_She kisses us and H.G. is ecstatic. We both get lost in the kiss until I finally break through, and shove Darla away, reverting back to my human guise._

_"Why are you here?" I say roughly, gripping Darla’s arms._

_/What the bloody hell are you doing?! This is OUR SIRE!/_

_"Why do you think?” Darla counters._

_"I think you are here to annoy me."_

_"Annoy you? Can't a Sire say hello to her Childe?"_

_"No." I release her arms, disgusted._

_H.G. is releasing a litany of colorful curses in my head, and I put my head in my hands as I feel Darla trying to assert our bond._

_“Stop what you doing and leave now,” I demand. “Or I swear I will throw you out into the sun myself!”_

_Darla sighs. “I should know by now you’re too strong for our bond to work fully.”_

_She stops her effort, and I release my head and walk across the room to be away from her._

_I shake my head. “I am not Angelus.”_

_Weak like Angelus, is what I really want to say._

_“No, you’re not. You never were. I sometimes wonder if it was a mistake to Turn you, but I could never help feeling some pride at your strength. You never let any man control you. You like to be the one in control.”_

_“Yes, I do, and that is one reason why I no longer associate with any of you.”_

_“Do you not wish to even see your own Childe?”_

_I struggle with the answer. I know H.G. wants to see him again, but I have mixed feelings about it._

_“After all, he is the only Childe you have left. Are you simply going to forget he exists to soothe your human soul?”_

_“No, I am not going to forget. I cannot forget any of this. I cannot forget I am not a monster, and that I can never make up for the things I have done.”_

_I pause, and Angel’s words come to mind._

_“But I am not just a shadow anymore; I can make a difference,” I say, trying to sound decisive and sure._

_Darla laughs. “You’ll never make up for what your human soul seems to think is horrible deeds.”_

_“Maybe not,” I admit, “but I can try.”_

                                              __________________________________________________________________

 

Spike slams Myka to the ground, and I feel defenseless.

I am but twenty feet away from the fight, the line between sun and shadow is less than a foot away from where I huddle against the wall.

Myka wipes the blood from the corner of her mouth, and stands, but she is shaky, and I wonder how long this fight has been going on to see her weakening.

Spike is relaxed, strutting like a peacock as he circles her before stopping and throwing his arms wide.

And that’s when I see it.

The Gem of Amara encased in a ring on Spike’s finger, sparkling in the sunlight.

“Innit a fantastic day? Birds singing, squirrels gathering acorns and nuts, sun beaming down in a lovely non-fatal way. I wonder if I'll freckle?”

Myka hits him with a power-punch, which on any other day would send him flying across the yard, but he is unaffected.

“Feeling tired, Slayer?”

Myka shakes her head, but she is bruised and bleeding, and I fear she cannot hang on long enough to secure the ring. My mind frantically grasps at some straw of an idea; just something, anything to help.

“I’m fine. You? Sun shining in your eyes?” She taunts right back.

Spike appears to think about it for a moment.

“Rather bright actually…throws a lad off balance.” Then his feral grin emerges. “Just kidding. I’m feeling full of vim and vigor.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Pete doing his best to sneak up on Spike with a chair in his hands, and I can see the fool has decided this course of action will help, when in reality it will very well get him killed.

I wave my hands frantically to get his attention in the (most likely vain) hope he will come to his senses and realize the foolishness of this endeavor.

Pete pauses, glances my way, and shakes his head.

I can’t decide whether I wish to smack him or admire his bravery for such an action.

But considering the circumstances, I feel justified in saying if we all survive this, I will dress him down the way my father used to dress down Charles, and I doubt very much Myka would object.

I see Spike land a particularly brutal punch that staggers Myka, and Pete raises the chair over Spike's head, ready to bring it down.

Spike suddenly spins around, and grabs the chair from Pete’s hand. I unconsciously step out to run over to help, but pull back abruptly with a hiss. I cradle my sizzling hand as I watch Spike use the chair to smash Pete in the ribs, sending him flying across the grass.

Pete is lying flat on the ground, and I hear him faintly groaning. My hope is he will have nothing more than bruised ribs. If we do not stop Spike, however, I have no doubt Pete will be his next victim.

“Do you actually think you can sneak up on the Big Bad?” Spike yells, gesturing towards himself. “No one can stop the Big Bad!”

Myka spins Spike around, saying, “He can’t but I can.”

She hits him hard, accompanied by a roundhouse kick, and Spike actually stumbles.

H.G. has been suspiciously quiet, a sure sign she is planning something, most likely not caring what I think or forgetting the part where I am the one in control of this body.

‘Are you just going to stay quiet and not offer any suggestion?’

No answer.

I know if I try anything, he can just throw me into the sun.

No weapon will work against him so what do I have left?

“You let Sam take a poke, eh? He play the sensitive lad and get you to seduce him?”

Myka says nothing, and I know she is struggling with keeping her face neutral. Spike always knew how to use a word, or turn of phrase to disarm his opponent. I often felt this sadistic glee came as a sort of retaliation to his own taunters as a human.

Myka kicks out but he stops it.

“So what was it? Too strong for the boy?”

Spike crushes her a blow, and she falls back, crashing into the patio table.

“Left his delicate flesh black and blue? Broke his ribs?”

He advances, and to my relief, Myka is back up, in a fighting stance.

“Was he better than your Slayer? The one who popped your cherry? I heard you were rather lacking in skill, you might say.”

Myka staggers back as if his words were a physical blow. Spike's grin widens. He knows he’s found her achilles heel.

“Oh, that's right; I didn't say it. It was the one you bloody thought was in love with you."

Myka folds in on herself. I can tell she is ready to give up; and so does Spike.

“Did you know I was the one who Turned her? She wanted it, and she wanted the best, so she came to the Big Bad naturally. Do you really think she wanted to play second fiddle to you, a pathetic excuse for a Slayer?”

He pauses in his steps, and shakes his head. “You know, I heard my Sire has taken quite a liking to you. Why, I couldn’t say. You never would have satisfied her in the sack, I know, since we did our own fair amount of shagging.”

I’m about to put a stop to this one way or another, when Myka actually growls, and her eyes begin to glow gold, and I know the Slayer is out in full force.

And so does Spike who blanches when he sees it.

Myka is suddenly a flurry of kicks and punches. He can’t keep up, and I know it is only a matter of time before she gets the ring and possibly kills Spike in the process.

H.G. finally speaks up.

/Let me out/

She wants both to survive, and now it looks like our Childe is going to perish, and despite everything, she cannot let that happen.

‘How can I trust you?’

/You can’t. Would prefer to see our Childe die?/

I still hesitate, and I sense her impatience.

/Do you NOT understand? I’m his Sire, you sot./

Wait.

I do think I understand.

But if I let her do what I think she wants to do, I need to make sure I can stop her if she goes too far.

/Now, LET ME OUT/

So I do.

And hope for the best.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  



	14. Illusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life and death are illusions. We are in a constant state of transformation. ——-Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -So I'm not as happy with this as the one before, but I'm tired of messing with it so here it is.

Life and death are illusions. We are in a constant state of transformation. —Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu

—-----

“Childe.”

H.G.’s aura is such, that not only does Spike immediately feel the effect of H.G.’s summon, but Myka does as well. She stops in mid-swing, and her Slayer fully turns towards us. Her body is still; she is waiting, and watching us intently.

Myka’s Slayer is radiating great power. The Slayer in her pure form terrifies demons and despite H.G. being a vampire born through the bloodline of the Master, I doubt even she is a match for Myka in this state.

And H.G. knows it.

I feel the affect the Slayer has on her, and there is a sliver of fear that runs through both of us. While I know Myka would hesitate before killing us, the Slayer would not.

Myka has spoken of the Slayer as a primal beast. I do not believe Myka gives the Slayer enough credit. The Slayer is not mindless; she is smart and can understand situations can be resolved in different means. However, the Slayer will not hesitate if she senses H.G. has gone too far, or maybe not far enough.

As for Spike, he is off the ground so quickly I am surprised he didn't fall over in doing so.

“Sire.”

We are in gameface, and H.G. uses the bond fully. There is a mix of emotions radiating from Spike, but the strongest is his will to please his Sire.

“Childe, give me the gem.”

A malicious grin spreads across his face. “So, how’d you do it, eh? I know Helena’s pesky soul is still in there.”

H.G. smiles her own malicious grin. “Let’s just say, she can be easily convinced I have pure motives in mind.”

Spike scoffs, “As if!” and I hear the pride of his Sire in his voice.

While H.G. is pleased by his adulation, I also sense the pride she feels in how well our Mate has fought.

“Now give me the gem, William.” H.G. holds out our hand.

Spike flinches at the sound of his human name, and declares in childish stubborn obstinance, ”My name is Spike. William was a weak insufferable lot.”

H.G. is greatly displeased. It was the human William she chose to Turn. H.G. does care greatly for her Childe, but it was that ‘insufferable William’ she first cared about, no matter how much she declares otherwise.

It was the human William H.G. had deemed worthy of becoming her Childe.

“It is I who created you, made you, Childe, and I shall call you by whichever name I wish.”

Spike mumbles petulantly, “All right, William the Bloody, then.”

A slow smile spreads across our face; H.G. has put her Childe in his place.

Spike clears his throat and tries to bargain. “How about we share it, eh? We can find some way to get rid of Helena for good.”

H.G. shakes our head. “I am not sharing the gem, Childe. It’s mine. Now give it to me. And leave.”

Our eyes flit towards the manhole, and Spike follows the action. We both sense his panic and anger, most likely due to the prospect of losing the ultimate holy grail. His hand seems to work independently of his body as he forcefully begins to take the ring off.

The Slayer moves fast, turns Spike around, and breaks his finger, succeeding in getting the ring back. He yelps and he begins to smoke. Spike rushes towards the manhole, and drops quickly though the opening.

The Slayer holds up the ring triumphantly, and I half expect her to run after Spike. In fact, I see and sense a twinge of uncertainty of whether to chase after Spike, but the protection of the gem is paramount to all else. 

The Slayer stares at us. She knows what H.G. was doing, and even if Myka wouldn’t understand, the Slayer does. 

The Slayer decides to pull back, and I see the transformation; Myka is fully present again.

I however am not.

H.G. is still in control, and now I begin to feel my own sense of panic.

‘H.G., back off! Both Myka and Spike are safe! Pull back, you arse!’

H.G. has reverted back to our human guise, but I see suspicion on Myka’s face when our eyes gaze at the ring in hunger. She frowns. “Helena?”

H.G. is very unhappy.

I was right in believing her plan had been to get the ring from Spike, and allow him to escape. However, while her Childe escaped, I now realize Myka not releasing the ring to her was not part of the plan.

In fact, Myka was not supposed to even have the ring because H.G. had intended Spike to give the ring directly to us. The Slayer (and Myka) would simply accept this because the Slayer (and Myka) would realize and acknowledge us as her Mate. 

I would laugh out loud at the absurdity of H.G.’s plan, but the call from the gem is strong and is overwhelming me with desire as well

I want that gem more and more with each passing moment.

The longing to share not just every night, but every day with Myka.

To live as a human once again.

Memories surface of taking Christina to the park, laughing and riding my horse through the countryside with my cousins, sharing picnics in the afternoon with past lovers.

My will to push H.G. down is weakening, and I feel her becoming stronger.

“Helena, you don’t need this ring.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Myka slowly stepping towards us. She speaks as if we were a dangerous wild animaI, not wanting to startle us in case we decide to “bite” or attack.

“I know you think you do, but you don’t. You have some stupid idea in your thick skull that you’re not enough for me because you can’t be in the sun. You think we can’t share this life together. I’m sure because of that pigheaded stubbornness of yours, you feel like you don’t deserve me, that I can somehow do better.

“Well, let me tell you something: I’ve got news for you, Helena. I make my own decisions about my life, and who I want to be in it.

“Who I want to share it with.

“And whom I love.”

Myka pauses her steps, and tries to catch my eye; to turn our focus away from the gem H.G. and I are so tempted with and enthralled by. I hear her voice but feel as if I see and hear her though a tunnel. A long tunnel, and am unable to comply with her wishes.

Even if by some insane reason Myka gives us the ring, H.G. will take control because I am fading so fast, to the point of no return. H.G., not me, will be forever in charge of this body.

A part of H.G. will revel in our time with our Mate, but it will only be a matter of time before she’ll lapse into baser instincts. She will kill and maim and feel no remorse.

“You think we can’t do things like normal couples do. You’re right; we can’t. But you know what, neither of us is what people deem as normal.

“We live on the mouth of hell for heaven’s sakes! 

“And I’m not vain enough to know why you want it is just about me.

“It’s true, I don’t know what it’s like for you, obviously. Existing as you do, with your soul intact. You remember and yearn for what you once had and know you can never have it again. And you accept that because you believe it is your penance for your demon’s sins.

“And now, in the palm of my hand, exists the means to enjoy life as you did as a human.

“I don’t know what it was like for you back in the late 1800s, so I don’t know exactly what you miss but I’m sure I can guess because I bet they are close to the things I would miss too.

“Reading on the grass when Pete comes along and decides we need to toss the frisbee around because, and I quote, ‘Don’t you know this is frisbee weather, Myka? It’s been ordained so by the frisbee gods themselves.'

“Sunbathing on the beach with the whole gang, watching Steve chase Claudia because she put sand down his shorts.

“Laughing at Giles when he trips over a curb as we’re walking in the early afternoon sun to his shop because he is in the midst of lamenting over his lack of tea this morning because apparently he was an idiot for not buying it at the store last night.

“And shopping with my mom and sister on a Saturday afternoon at the Galleria even though I would most likely hate it because Tracy will take us to every store known to god and man, and my mom will most likely allow her to.

“The important thing is, the reason it’s so wonderful is not because we are outside in the sun. It’s because I’m with people I care about; people I love.

“And, Helena, I can be with those same people at night, in the dark.

“Nothing is going to stop that.

“But, Helena, you have to understand; you would be impervious to everything. What happens if you lose your soul? If H.G. suddenly decides she wants a human to snack on, you know I can’t allow that, Helena. You know I would have to stop her in any way possible, even at the cost of my own life.”

Tears are now running down Myka’s face.

“So, Helena, please; come back to me.”

Myka suddenly grabs my shoulder and screams into my face.

“I love you, Helena, now come back to me!”  
   
   
 


	15. Belief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves." --Sir Edmund Hillary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows the previous chapter, but it's now eight at night.
> 
> I've been going through a lot of tough real life issues so I've been writing less, but that doesn't mean I've completely stopped so updates may be quite slow in coming but they will eventually show up.

 

—-

_The impact of my body hitting the wall by Myka’s punch breaks through the thrall of the gem._

_Both of us start, but I’m quicker to recover and wrestle control from H.G., shoving her down inside where she belongs._

_“Myka?” I say weakly as I shake my head slightly to clear it; she always has had a powerful punch. Myka never would’ve made it through the fight with Spike if she wasn’t as strong as she is._

_She stands right in front of me, half in the sun, half in the shadows. I see her face clear as she realizes it’s me, and not H.G. A sheepish smile appears. “Sorry about the punch.” Myka rubs the back of her neck. “I couldn’t bring you back any other way. Not even when I said…”_

_She looks down self-consciously, and I remember her words: “I love you, Helena, now come back to me!” My eyes widen, and I grin, feeling lighter than I have since before Christina was murdered._

_“I love you too,” I confess._

_The smile I am given in return is beautiful, and I am suddenly engulfed in Myka’s embrace. I wrap my arms around her, and try to tug her impossibly closer._  
  
_“I was afraid I lost you for good, Helena,” Myka mumbles into my hair, “I don’t think I could stand that.”_

_I hear the tremor in her voice, and give her a comforting squeeze. While I loosen my grip enough to allow my arms fall, I make sure to still any doubt of my intentions by keeping my hold around her waist. She shyly smiles, and I’m glad to see any sign of tears are no longer there._

_“Darling, we have a lot to discuss,” I remind her as I play with an untamed curl from her loose ponytail. I can see her apprehension so I clarify, “I meant what I said; I do love you, but there are still things…unsaid to each other.” My eyes stray off to the side. “Mostly on my part, I am afraid…”_

_“Look, Helena, I know-“_

_“How about we finish this discussion later?” I interrupt softly, realizing now is not the time._

_She nods, and I allow her to escape this time. Myka opens her left fist, and I watch as she stuffs it into her pants pocket. Its gem still calls to me, tempting me with everything I truly want. I feel H.G. stir. My voice is guttural when I say, “That ring needs to get to a safe place.”_

_Myka’s eyes narrow, and I see her Slayer stir at my tone. I look at her in earnest, and whatever she sees in my face seems to pacify her. Her expression relaxes and I know she understands._

_“Yeah. I’m going to take it to Giles.”_

_I briefly consider giving chase to Spike, but wonder if it’s an exercise in futility right now; hopefully with his lackeys dusted, and the Slayer having the gem he will at least momentarily stay away from Sunnydale._

_But truly, do I even want to go after him? I know I will not be able to kill him…_

_“When are you leaving?” Myka asks, interrupting my thoughts._

_“I don’t know yet, but I know I want to talk to you before I leave. Come to my apartment later tonight?”_

_“Sounds good,” she agrees._

_Hey, man down over here!” a masculine voice groans out._

_Myka starts, and her eyes widen. I wonder if she even realized he came to help. I suddenly feel guilty for forgetting Spike had hit him hard enough to knock him probably twenty feet from the fight._

_There is worry and guilt so before she will go into self-flagellation,  I say, "He was really quite brave, you know. Without his help, I don't know if I could have made it this close to your fight. But as hard as Spike hits, I think he will be all right. He's tougher than you think."_

_Myka turns and calls over her shoulder, concern lacing her voice, "I'll be right there, Pete!"_

_She withdraws fully from the shadows into the daylight where I cannot follow. Myka flashes me a reassuring smile, though, and before she runs off to help the boy, her expression is open and true._

_Myka's green eyes are full of love that I never expected to be aimed at a creature such as myself ._

_I smile back, and as I watch her race off, I do my best to believe I am worthy, but I am plagued with self doubt, and wonder if I will ever be deserving of such devotion from someone as magnificent as she._

__

“Ready?”

I am in the middle of making a steaming cup of Earl Grey when Angel interrupts the memory.

I give a slight shake of my head at the sound of his voice to rouse my consciousness; I nearly forgot he is here.

“If you are asking whether I am ready to face Myka, I can unequivocally say…I don’t know.” I grin wryly, trying for honesty.

Angel shakes his head at my confession, his expression a cross between exasperation and sympathy.

Before he says anything, I interject, “I know what you’re going to say, so don’t start.”

“Hey, I wasn’t gong to say anything.” Angel throws his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender.

I roll my eyes but decline to comment. Finished sorting my tea, I walk out the kitchen to sit across from him on the couch.

“You certain you don’t want a drink of some sort?” I hold the steaming cup of tea in my hands, its heat soothing my nerves.

“No, Helena, I’m fine. Really.”

He smiles at me, and I have a sudden rush of affection. I lay my hand on his arm.

“Thank you for coming, Angel.”

He takes ahold of my hand and gently squeezes before letting go.

“It’s no problem, Helena,” Angel assures me, and leans back. “Besides I look forward to meeting the girl who has made you more happy than I’ve ever seen.”

“And who more than held her own against Spike this afternoon,” I cannot help but add.

Angel straightens, and holds my gaze as he asks, “How are you holding up, Helena?”

I know he’s talking about seeing Spike.

“I think it was tougher on H.G. than me. Spike always did hold a special place in her cold undead demon heart. He is her first Childe, after all.”

“And the only Childe she has left.” I nod, and he adds slowly, “I know it’s not exactly the same but…Spike’s also the only Childe you have left, Helena, and you know I’m including Christina in that equation.”

I abruptly set my teacup on the coffeetable with such force it’s a wonder the tea doesn’t spill or the cup break.

I jump up and walk across the room, wanting to put as much space as possible between Angel and I.

I am suddenly very happy H.G. is so sated from the blood I drank roughly two hours ago. I made it a point to drink an extra amount on purpose. Angel was set to arrive this evening, and I did not feel like dealing with her continual interruptions and baiting me into an argument with him, or worse, Angelus.

My voice is cold when I growl, “I already know that, Angel, there is no need to bring it up.”

I run my hand through my locks in irritation. I knew the discussion was heading in this direction; that doesn’t mean I am necessarily prepared for it.

I do think Spike was initially pleased to see his Sire, but witnessing H.G. choose Myka, the Slayer, over him, her Childe, must have felt like rejection on the deepest level. He knew I was souled but it was H.G. in charge at the time of the fight. Spike had no way of knowing H.G. considered Myka as her Mate.

But deep down I know H.G. wanted him to escape, and there was a part of me that did too, and I feel shame at the thought. The realization I am letting a sadistic vampire loose to feed and kill makes me ill, but I push it aside, and decide I can deal with the moral implications later.

There’s silence and I can tell Angel is searching for a way to say more without me exploding. Before he can reply, I deflect by changing the subject.

“I have decided it’s for the best someone else brings the gem back to Los Angeles.” I pause, and then acknowledge, “Angel, if it were not for Myka…”

We both start at the sound of a knock on the front door, and I know by the knock it’s Myka.

My hand immediately shoots up to grasp Christina’s locket in my hand, and close my eyes. If I believed God cared for a creature such as me, I would send Him a prayer asking for strength.

Instead, I pray to my baby girl to give her mother strength to love again, as I seek to live a ‘life’ she can proud of. I can picture her sweet face, staring at me with such trust and love, and I can clearly hear her say in my mind, “You can do anything, Mummy.”

Myka’s face replaces Christina in my mind’s eye, and once again I hear her declaration of love.

After a moment, I open my eyes, and a calm washes over me.

I’m ready.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Confrontation And Aftereffects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Isn’t it crazy how slaying just always makes ya hungry and horny?” -Faith in Buffy the Vampire Slayer 3x3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I feel at the rate I'm going this is never going to finish. This last part has been so freakin' hard! This chapter was intended to be the last one but I decided to split the finally first rough draft I completed. It is much easier for me to break things up this way. That draft seemed to help a lot, an I'm hoping it is enough for me to figure out what I'm ending the story with.
> 
> Okay, about this chapter. The name of the chapter is pretty literal this time. Myka has a confrontation with Angel and then she is feeling the aftereffects of slaying. For any fan of BtVS, we all know what that means. According to Faith at any rate, it makes a Slayer hungry and horny. Consider everything that Myka and her Slayer have been going through, and the lack of satisfaction from not killing Spike and in other areas of her life (along with things in this chapter), along with lots of emotions...well, Myka is a walking hormone right now.
> 
> Just so know, I tried to make it clear that Myka or the Slayer would never force herself on Helena sexually. Both Myka and The Slayer recognize the need for consent. I hope that comes through. 
> 
> On another side note, for those who have seen Angel, you will understand my reference to saying the Angel drawing on Angel's business card looks like a lobster. Just a little inside joke.
> 
> EDIT on 4/28: I had a criticism Myka was basically being a brat so I toned down her reaction and made her more repentant. HOWEVER, as I already stated above, this is where I believe Myka's headspace to be at this moment in time. If you watch BtVS, there were times where Buffy would do something and be unapologetic because the Slayer inside her thought it was warranted to protect people. The Slayer is a part of Myka here and is close on the surface as I stated above. Just because she is the hero of the story, doesn't mean she doesn't she is 100% likable all the time. As I said before, this end has been extremely hard for me to write and I still have one more chapter to wrap things up. I'm thankful to my various friends and beta who've been for me in this long process and for those reading this, I hope you will finish the journey with me.

“Come in, Myka!”

The courtyard is lit, and reminds me of Giles’. But instead of the warm welcoming light of his apartment, I am greeted with windows so dark, no light could penetrate the curtains.

I suck in a breath and pause before opening the door.

No matter how hard I try, my insecurities still exist. These past two days have exposed everything I’ve been hiding from everyone, including myself.

And while it’s now Helena’s turn to expose herself to me, I wonder and worry if her words earlier today are true.

I wonder if she was instead simply appeasing me at the time; after all, I must be like a child to her, in age, experience, and temperament. My sincere confession of love could be a teenager’s crush laughable to a 100 year old vampire who was already in her twenties when Turned.

I shake my head to rid myself of these thoughts. My stomach is in knots and I consider asking Helena for an antacid when I get there.

Wait.

Why on earth would a vampire have antacids in her apartment?!

I open the door, heartened to see soft comforting light coming from her floor lamp and the kitchen. However, I can’t help but wonder if I’m ready to see her and briefly contemplate turning tail and run. Instead, I gather my strength.

“Hey,” I say awkwardly, and give a little wave, feeling like a dork for doing so.

“Hello to you too.” Helena sends me a warm loving smile, which causes my fears to lessen.

I half smile back, and walk in. Any peace of mind disappears however when I see a handsome man rise from the couch, and the green eyed monster appears.

I glance at Helena who stuffs her hands in her pants pockets. She looks nervous. “Myka, this is a friend of mine.” Helena points at the man, and suddenly I realize something else. “He’s-“

“A vampire,” I finish for her, frowning, and my Slayer stirs.

He quickly steps around the couch, and I immediately fall into a fighting stance. 

He sees it, and stops, holding his hands up in a submissive gesture.

“I’m not a threat, Myka.”

“Then who are you?” I demand.

I am still staring at the male vampire when Helena speaks behind me, and reiterates his words. “He is not a threat, Myka. You have my word.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“My name is Angel. Helena and I are colleagues in Los Angeles.”

When he says this it triggers a memory.

“Buffy Summers’ Angel?” His face relaxes into what I guess to be relief, but I’m far from satisfied.

I know the story. Originally Angelus was cursed by gypsies in retribution for his killing spree of their Clan. They returned his soul, knowing Angel would be tortured by the thought of the horrific acts Angelus had committed.

The gypsies also denied Angel true happiness; for if he experienced a moment of true happiness, Angel knew he would lose his soul. Angelus would once more appear to torture and kill. Unfortunately this is exactly what happened when Angel and Buffy Summers made love.

Fortunately Buffy and her friends were able to return his soul, but it was returned by the same spell, so once again, Angel was haunted by Angelus’ deeds and the denial of true happiness.

But was Buffy truly necessary for Angel to experience true happiness? People find great happiness with friends and in experiences.

Who’s to say this wouldn’t be the case for Angel? By the time we know for certain, it will be too late.

Right now rationality seems to be slipping. The fight with Spike has left me raw, and the denial of killing a vampire such as Spike has left me with an itch waiting to be scratched and the jealousy is only magnifying the situation.

My body tenses, and my voice lowers in accusation, “Or should I call you Angelus?”

“Myka!” Helena yells, and she is suddenly in front of me. “He is Souled. Now, stop!”

As I go to step around her, she blocks me but I’m still keyed up, and so is my Slayer. I startle her with a quick shove and easily side step her.

Roughly grabbing the male vampire by his shirt, I slam him against the wall with a thud, holding him strong and fast. I swiftly reach inside my jacket and bring out my stake. I press it hard against his undead heart, feeling a rush. I long to slide my stake through his chest like butter.

“Well?” I grill, my voice rough, “Which one are you?”

His face flashes between human and gameface, which tenses me even more. Even if he is Souled, Angelus is itching to get out, and I will kill him before that happens.

Before the vampire can answer my question, I hear Helena speak in a soothing tone, “He has his soul, Slayer, and is no threat to anyone. Can you not tell?”  
I roughly give him another shove against the wall and see him wince, knowing I’m losing control fast.

Suddenly, I sense Helena place her hand on my shoulder. I feel a gentle squeeze but everything seems so faraway to me, and the Slayer doesn’t seem to acknowledge the action.

“Myka,” she speaks so softly, directly into my ear, making it clear her words are for me, and me alone, “I know you have been pushed down by the Slayer, but listen to me: Angel is not physically a threat, nor a threat to my love for you.”

That last part causes enough of a jolt, making it so I can take charge over my Slayer. Abruptly, I release my grip on Angel, and step back a few paces while Helena’s hand slips from my shoulder. The memory of Helena’s last words causes a slight flush of embarrassment. 

While the Slayer in me believes the actions were warranted considering what I know of the history of Angel/Angelus, I don’t feel especially proud of how I handled the situation.

I rub the back of my neck. “Uh, Sorry about your head.”

I wince a bit as Angel rubs the back of his head, and am glad vampires heal faster than a human. Some blood and he’ll be good as new. 

Angel smiles. “Don’t worry; I’m pretty hardheaded which I’m sure Helena can verify.” 

Helena rolls her eyes. “Yes, I can.”

I ask, “So…uh…you guys are colleagues, huh?”

Angel smiles slightly, reaches into his pocket, withdraws a business card, and hands it to me.

“What’s this?” I peer intently at the drawing, and raise an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be an angel?” I ask, and then mumble, “It looks like a lobster.”

Angel sighs, and reaching into his pocket again, he produces another business card. “Sorry. Forgot I still had that. It was the first one designed. Here’s the current card.”

It also has that weird drawing (their logo I guess) and reads 'Angel Investigations' with an address in Los Angeles.

“Oh,” I remark, flipping the card back and forth. “So that’s your business card huh? Who designed it anyways? Because that drawing doesn’t even look like an angel…which I’m going to guess is a play on your name.”

“My…secretary. She seemed to think it would draw in business.”

I don’t know what makes me say it, but I absently muse, “Looks like something Cordelia would think up.”

I raise my head, and noticing the look on their faces, my eyes widen in surprise.

“I knew she was in L.A. but I thought she was trying to become an actress or something,” I remark, sounding rather snarky, but I admit to not quite being over the way she treated Pete. I shake my head, surprised. “Wow. That’s a coincidence considering she wasn’t here when we first met you, Helena.”

Helena sighs. “While it’s a slightly humorous story, it is frankly not mine to tell.” Her words and tone were reminiscent of Giles’ admonishments when he felt I was being rather immature. I look away and rub the back of my neck, embarrassed. 

“Cordelia does a good job,” Angel says defensively, then mutters, “She is hard to deal with though…”

I chuckle. “That sounds like Cordy.” Then I pause, teasing, “You seriously let Queen C design this thing?”

Angel snatches it out of my hands. I swear, if he were human, you would see his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Helena sends me a look but she also looks like she’s holding back her own amusement. 

Angel turns to Helena. “I think I need to leave you two alone. I’m going to head back to Los Angeles.”

He gives me a rueful grin. “I know this one can be a pain in the ass,” Angel gestures towards Helena who scoffs “but give her a chance, okay?”

I can see how much he cares, and the fondness in his expression, and in his eyes, remind me of Pete whenever we talk. This man is like a brother to Helena, but I also recognize their relationship cannot be defined in human terms.

Helena rolls her eyes, but then says quietly, “Thank you for coming, Angel.”

Angel hugs her but I feel no jealousy. “Give her the journal, Helena. Let her decide for herself,” I hear his voice softly reply.

Angel walks to the door, and after he grabs his duster from the coat rack, he tells me, “We’ve known each other for a very long time, and I’ve never known Helena to care about anyone the way she does for you.”

He smiles warmly, and I blush slightly at his words, nodding.

“You know, I happen to know from a pretty reliable source that Helena has a very flexible schedule this coming week. So, if you just happen to want to come by for a visit-“

“Angel!” Helena barks.

Angel laughs, and as he leaves he says, “Nice to meet you, Myka.”

“You too,” I reply.

“Maybe next time we see each other, things will go smoother.” He grins.

That’s a bit of an understatement, I think self consciously.

Angel opens the door and pauses with his hand on the door knob. “See you when you get back, Helena.”

The tone is serious, and is what I suspect an affirmation for whatever happens between Helena and I, he will always be there for his friend.

Helena nods, and Angel takes his leave, closing the door behind him.

Now, that we’re alone, I am feeling brazen enough to assume it’s okay for me to make myself comfortable.

Helena would never admit this, but she can be old fashioned at times. Despite our pre-arranged time to talk tonight, I know she expected me to wait while she made the offer of making myself at home.

I immediately turn and shrug my jacket off. As I hang it on a peg, I feel relaxed. I walk the short distance to her couch, turn to face her, lean against the back, and give her a cheeky grin.

It may sound odd but the confrontation with Angel has done wonders for my state of being. Despite the struggle in reigning the Slayer in, I enjoyed the rush, even though there was no satisfaction of a kill.

Then there was Helena’s assurance Angel posed no threat to her love for me, not to mention Angel’s words before he left and Helena’s reaction to them. It all seemed to cement what she admitted to me earlier today.

Helena loves me.

Right now, though, I can tell I am testing her patience. She rolls her eyes.

“Tea?”

I snicker. “Is that all you Brits offer when someone comes to your house?”

“Well, I would offer coffee because it’s all you Americans like to drink," she counters. "However, it is very nearly eight at night. I thought it might be a bit late, considering all I have is caffinated.” She pauses, then adds, “Besides, I very much doubt you need anything more to wind you up.”

This causes a smirk, because, yeah, I am most definitely ‘wound up’.

Sure, I did a sweep before coming over. I was worried Spike might still be around. He wasn’t. Instead, all I found was one vampire. I took my time dusting her to try to take the edge off. 

It did next to nothing really and with the events of the past few days, including the confrontation with Angel occurring less than half an hour ago, one of Faith’s old axioms came to mind: the H&H factor.

Slaying makes you hungry and horny.

And neither coffee nor tea will satisfy either itch.

Helena shakes her head. She can tell by my expression what’s going on.

“Myka, no…”

I come closer, and I know my eyes are flashing gold. The Slayer is restless. “Why not?”

Her hand is on my chest and she pushes me back. “Myka, I said no. Believe me when I say I very much want to, but now is not the time. Right now, you are feeling the aftereffects from slaying and from your Slayer being out so much today.”

Intellectually, I know she’s right. I also know the Slayer understands consent and will not break Helena's physical boundary. However, my hormones are so high right now, it’s just difficult to get my body to cooperate.

Suddenly, an idea pops into my mind.

“Dancing!”

“What?”

She looks confused, and even though she’s one hundred years old, she looks adorable.

“Dancing. At the Bronze!” I bounce a bit in excitement. “I can burn some energy off.”

She levels me a look. “Myka, I have been around long enough to know that will most likely only make things worse.”

I sigh, not happy at having my balloon popped. “Okay, well, you don't have a lot of human food-”

“We can order something if you’d like, or go out to eat, if you’d prefer," she interrupts.

I chew on my lip. I realize we DO need to discuss things; it’s why I came over here after all, but right now, I could care less. We love each other and that’s all that matters to me.

But, I can tell she’s not going to budge, so I shrug. I don’t think I want to be stuck in here, so….

“Okay, let’s go out for food,” I say abruptly. 

“All right. Where do you wish to go?”

I want to leave Sunnydale, but I’m hungry now and it will take way too long to get to another town with a decent place to eat. As I weigh my options, my mind wanders and I start to fantasize about food: an extra large Greek pizza with an Italian dressing salad, Buffalo wings and-

Suddenly fingers snap in front of my face, and Helena is giving me an exasperated look.

“Oh, sorry.” I grimace a bit. “How about Russo’s? While it’s right near campus, we may see some students but it’s a nice place. We can walk it, but it takes less time by car,” I say, hoping she chooses the second option.

“Sounds fine. Car it is,” she replies, and then mutters to herself, “Now, where did I put the keys?” Helena runs a hand through her gorgeous black locks distracting me momentarily.

“Aha!”

Helena snags the keys off her breakfast bar, and when she’s back by my side, she notices my slightly lustful gaze. Helena levels me a small glare causing me to rub the back of my neck, and apologize.

It seems to pacify her, but she makes a little shooing motion to get me moving. I snag my jacket. Just before I put it on however, I turn to her more serious.

“Hey, do you need to have any blood before we go?”

“No, I’m fine.” Helena shakes her head while slipping her boots on. “I had a good amount before Angel arrived to keep H.G. quiet. She and Angelus have always had a rather contentious relationship, and she has a tendency to get rather vocal at times when he’s around. Her attitude towards Angel is not very welcoming either. I had no wish to deal with her idiocy tonight.”

Helena rubs her temple briefly, and suddenly her words sober me up a bit and I feel the urge to protect her somehow, to get rid of H.G., to somehow find a way to allow her some peace. All I can think of is holding her in my arms and not letting go. Helena has made it plain that’s not an option right now, so instead I opt for a brief compassionate squeeze of her hand and hope I’m not overstepping my bounds.

“I’m sorry, Helena.”

She shrugs, and smiles at me but I can see it doesn’t reach her eyes. Still, I can tell Helena appreciates the sentiment and she is aware the squeeze was meant for comfort and not sexual.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yup,” I nod a little too vigorously suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

Helena seems to notice, and gives my shoulder a quick rub up and down. She gestures towards the door and says, “After you.”

I smile, and step out into the cool night air. As I watch Helena in her tight jeans lock the door, I almost wish it would rain because I have no way to take a cold shower.

“The car is across the street,” Helena remarks when she faces me.

“Okay,” I respond absently, staring at her.

Her eyes narrow.

“What?” I ask abruptly. Stupid Slayer hormones.

“Don’t make me regret going out, Myka.”

I roll my eyes. “I promise not to embarrass you. I’ll make sure my Slayer and the ‘aftereffects of slaying’ as you put it, stay under control.” And then clarifying even more, I add, “No more flirting.”

She chuckles, and I'm happy to see her face lighten a bit. “Well, you don’t have to COMPLETELY stop flirting, but please limit the amount. And no heated looks.”

“Yes, ma’am!” I salute her, give her a saucy wink, a cocky grin, and turn on my heels strutting up her patio stairs, making sure to give her a full view of my back side.

Behind me I hear, “Oh, bloody hell” and I laugh.

 

 

   
 

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically the Warehouse 13 characters thrown into the Buffyverse, with extra things incorporated. For instance, like on Warehouse 13, Helena Wells is the true HG Wells having to hide her true identity because no one in that time period would accept a woman author. As the story continues, more of my Canon for this universe will become apparent.
> 
> This prologue is the story of how and why Helena was Turned by the vampire Darla. For BtVS fans, note Darla Turned Angel in early 1800s, but he left her in 1856 because Darla went to be with the Master, and Angel (now the vampire Angeleus) didn't want anything to do with the Master. This is one of the reasons she chooses Helena as her new companion in 1899 (there is another I won't disclose until future stories in this series). 
> 
> In another story, I will relate Helena's time as a vampire, and how Darla, Angel/Angeleus, and Spike are involved. When I create the series collection, I will make another note with more detailed explanations. The use of the themes of Tempus Fugit, Carpe Diem, Vanitas, and the overall acceptance that one must die (a reflection on mortality) are incorporated. The Series title called 'Ars Moriendi' means 'the Art of Dying', the main theme of all the stories within this series.


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